Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kozue left for Japan the next afternoon. She did not ask for Kaho to accompany her, simply smiled and took off after confirming her ticket for the next flight. After she left, Kaho didn’t do much. She tidied up the apartment, glad that it was Saturday and she had the energy to. Outside the sky was cloudy, the air fresh from rain. Cars and people continued their usual music of noise and bustling, soothing rather than annoying.

Her doorbell rang. Kaho smiled at the girl before her.

“No Secchan keeping you company for this visit?”

Megumi had in fact, already been in Paris, and was apparently doing her best impression of a patient senpai as Kaho made them coffee. There was still a croissant she hadn’t eaten earlier, and she placed it before Megumi. She stared at Kaho silently, and the action would be unnerving if it didn’t make her bite her lip to stifle her laughter. Clearly Kozue hadn’t given her anything to work with.

“So, uh… I heard from a little birdie—”

“Kozue-senpai already left for Japan, Megu-chan.” Kaho said this with the ease of someone talking of the weather, one hand holding her cup and the other resting on her hip. She raised her glasses up her nose with a practised thumb, smiling over her cup. “If that’s what you wanted to know.”

“I…” Megumi’s face broke to a sad smile. “I’m… I’m really sorry.”

“Hm? Why so?”

“I mean… I know that girl is stupid like a brick despite her overall intelligence, but this is a whole other level. Leaving you after coming all this way over for you…”

“Oh, Kozue-senpai didn’t leave me.”

Was that pity in Megumi’s eyes?!

“It’s okay, Kaho. You can talk to me, you know? Heartbreak is scary, but you survived once. You can do it again.”

“Oh, hm. But once again, no need for heartbreak. Also, I never was—”

“Kaho, I love you but if I had to listen to Haruhikage one more time back when you and Kozue had your whole weird fight, I swore I’d never touch indie music again and stick with heavy rock.”

“You literally like them too! You told me you and Kozue-senpai went to their concert more than once! And I’m not heartbroken. There’s no reason to be heartbroken, especially now.”

Megumi blinked, puckering her lips in confusion and pity. “Is this a new stage of despair? Is that it? Usually, you and Kozue skipped denial to jump head first to depression. Are we going to pretend Kozue didn’t take a flight earlier to Japan? Is delusion really how low we’ve fallen?”

Kaho laughed then, loudly and unabashedly. Megumi stared at her like she was insane, which she most likely looked like. She placed the coffee in the kitchen table between them, taking off her glasses to polish them. When her laughter ended, a mischievous smile took its place.

“She just went to Japan to tidy up some things she had to do. She’s going to come back and live here with me for a while.”

Even without glasses, Megumi’s face was as clear as the sun on a summer day. Silence reigned over them, before Megumi slowly opened her phone. Kaho waited, patient. After a moment, Kozue’s voicemail was heard. Megumi only stared at Kaho as she spoke.

“Otomune Kozue, pray to God before you meet me, because he’ll want to know I’m sending you to him.”

Kaho laughed loudly, coughing even as Megumi began asking for details and what do you mean live with you—

Perhaps Kaho had meant to lead Megumi astray on purpose. Maybe she was expecting Megumi to notice the fact she was wearing Kozue’s cardigan, or the two plates drying behind her. Whatever reason she had, messing with Megumi was in fact something she did for good fun, and on purpose. A purpose that was more of a revenge for Megumi and Ceras’ meddling with Kozue’s twelfth tape. In the end, Megumi had forgiven her, letting her go with a promise to meet again before she went back to Japan with Ceras in tow.

But her and Kozue were okay. Or rather, on the way to be okay. As okay as they could be considering all that had gone between them.

Things had gone as such:

She’d looked at Kozue, and Kozue had looked at her. Kaho was soaking wet, blinking as if Kozue was a mirage of the rain, and Kozue stood frozen and dry, safe underneath her umbrella. For a moment, both just stood there, speechless in a place neither of them was supposed to be.

Kozue was the one to move first, silent and quick in her movements, taking off her jacket and holding her umbrella over Kaho. Kaho could only stare, blinking up at her, making no sound until Kozue’s jacket fell upon her shoulders, Kozue closing the first button to keep it around her. They stood there, Kozue’s hand warm against her collarbones and Kaho silent.

“Let’s…” Kozue licked her lips, swallowed, voice dry. “Let’s get you home and warm first. We can talk over tea.”

Getting home had been easy, Kozue keeping her close with an arm loose around her shoulders, taking the keys from Kaho’s pocket and opening the door. Neither said anything about the mess left behind, books strewn around and bag thrown on the ground. Kozue simply asked her for where the towels were, Kaho pointed, and Kozue returned with towels and dry clothes. Kaho noticed the wetness of her shoulder and arm, the sleeve of her shirt clinging to her arm. It was the arm opposite of where she’d held Kaho close as they walked home.

“Take a shower,” she murmured, gently. “I’ll make us some tea.”

She showered, and only when the warm water had run through her body did Kaho blink. Kozue was there. In her apartment. Not drunk or screaming or pretending like the years of their weird half-silence hadn’t happened. She was there, taking care of her in a distinct, earnest Kozue way, making tea and letting Kaho shower. Kaho raised her head, the shower head blasting water against her face. She could still hear things being set down and picked up. Kozue was still there.

When she got out of the shower, the french door of the balcony was left open. Kozue stood against the railing, a thin trail of smoke coming from her hand. Beside her, on the low table, two mugs of tea sat, both steaming. Kaho left them there, stepping to stand beside Kozue. They leaned their forearms on the railing. Under them, the city was silent, silence broken only by the rare car, or laughter of the youth still out.

Kaho reached out, her fingers grasping the cigarette from Kozue’s lips. This time, Kozue did not chastise her, nor ask. She stared in silence as Kaho placed it upon her own lips, took a breath. One, two, three, four. She breathed out. Kozue’s hand was already waiting for it back, and Kaho handed it with ease. It felt as if both didn’t know how to break the silence, continuing to smoke the cigarette until they’d reached the stub.

Kozue moved first, grabbed the mugs and handed one to Kaho. It was Kozue’s tea, the one Kaho had brought but refused to do anything but smell it on the rare, vulnerable nights when she’d had more than three glasses of wine and kept replaying Megumi’s ballads.

They drink in silence at first. Kozue had changed out of her wet shirt and cardigan, wearing one of Kaho’s bigger shirts. Kaho licked her lips, begging her lips to break the heavy silence between them.

“You were supposed to be on the train.”

“I was.”

“You weren’t supposed to have stayed.”

“I wasn’t.”

Kaho took a sip of the tea. “Why did you?”

Kozue swirled the tea inside her own cup, eyes refusing to meet Kaho’s. Kaho wasn’t afraid, even if her heart was racing. She’d already lost Kozue more than once. Whatever Kozue told her, it’d be nothing she couldn’t stand back from. Sure, maybe she’d search for green eyes in the girls that passed by her, or she’d pause on the middle of the street when she saw purple flowers, and she spent a stupid amount of money importing tea she didn’t even drink, but she’d go on. Out of all things Kozue had taught her, the strength to keep walking was one that Kaho clung most to.

“You cannot escape fate,” whispered Kozue. “You can try to run from it, to think that you’re fated for different things, but you can never escape it.” She paused for a sip of her tea. “We choose our destiny, but we can only hope on what we experience on the journey to our destination. I—” Kozue looked up, smile small. “I suppose I couldn’t go through with it. Selfish as I was. The gods might laugh at my attempts, but I feel this is where I was meant to end up.”

Kaho could almost imagine it. Kozue staring at the Venus statue as Kaho had done, hearing about the doors closing before being overcome by a feeling so unexplainable that she’d sound insane to explain it, throwing her bag out before jumping out of the train right before the doors closed. Staring at the closing doors before running out. Pausing as she opened her umbrella, adrenaline running out and fear running in and being afraid to take the steps to find her way to Kaho. Walking to Pont Neuf instead, standing there in silence until Kaho had found her way to her instead.

“You were there,” murmured Kaho. “That night at the hotel.” She held her eyes, unwilling to look away. “Why did you never tell me?”

Kozue broke first, looking away. “I saw how you were that night. I—” A pause. Kaho waited. “I already took so much from you, Kaho. I wasn’t willing to take any more.”

“You never took anything I didn’t want to give. Not even half of what I wanted to give you.”

“You shouldn’t have to give me anything.”

“You gave me hope,” said Kaho, voice soft and steady, a spider’s web. “I am who I am because of you, Kozue-senpai. I promised you. I wanted to be someone worth standing by your side. I was willing to give you everything.”

Silence. Kaho wasn’t afraid of having messed up, even if her heart feels as if it couldn’t pump enough blood to keep her from feeling like she wasn’t going to pass out. She stood there, looking at her tea, until Kozue dug in the pocket of her pants, holding out something in the palm of her hand. A button, like the one Kaho used to have, a pin going through where thread was supposed to go through. Kaho looked up, Kozue smiling gently. Kaho’s necklace hung on her neck, button glinting from the light caught on its reflection.

“I know. You were never the issue, Kaho. I simply felt like you… Like I couldn’t return all you gave me. You’re… brilliant. Inspiring. So many adjectives that I fail to come up with now. I couldn’t hold you back, nor keep you from all you could achieve if you weren’t busy looking towards me.”

“I want to make my dreams come true.” Kaho reached out, grasped at the button in Kozue’s palm. It’s warm, even under her grasp. Had Kozue held it in her hand until now? Had she really saved a button Kaho gave her when she had graduated? “But I also wanted you beside me as I achieved them. Is that really so wrong? I just… I just wanted to know that if it came to it, you’d be there by my side. Even if we stopped sharing a dream.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Kozue smiled. “Just how wrong can it be if we both dreamt of it? If we both couldn’t escape meeting each other again?”

Kaho stared at her. Her Kozue stood there, waiting, hair down, in Kaho’s living room, drinking Kaho’s tea. How many times had she imagined it? Would she stay there, or would she disappear as she often did?

“I’m… planning to stay here for a while.” Kaho blinked. Huh? “I was thinking about it as you showered. It’s late and… we have a lot to talk about. I don’t think we can discuss everything in a day or two.” Kozue looked down, cheeks red. “If you’re willing to give me a chance, I’d want it. To do things right this time. I promised you that Cerise Bouquet would be forever. I… I’m sorry. For all I did to hurt you. I want us to be happy. No matter… No matter the shape that happiness takes.”

“We can…” Kaho swallowed this time; throat dry despite the tea clenched in her grasp. “We can never be the way we were. I… I don’t think I could handle that. You know that, don’t you?”

Kozue stared at her, gaze unwavering, so like the girl Kaho loved with all she had when she was sixteen, and who she somehow still loved with all she has despite all her better reasoning at twenty-seven.

“I don’t want that either. I want us to be something new.” A tilt of the head, a soft, tentative smile. “What do you say? If despite all my best attempts, my heart still wanted to be here with you, isn’t it worth trying to find out why?”

Kaho would probably regret it, and she’s sure neither of them will talk of it tomorrow. She doesn’t mind, this time. They could hit restart when the sun rose. But now, Kozue was warm and inviting and Kaho had no other reply to give her but actions.

Her hand was gentle as she leaned to her side, pulling Kozue closer by the hand, the button digging between their palms. Kozue’s lips, too, were gentle as they met hers, as if expecting the contact. On railing, the tea grew cold, but Kaho could afford to let herself be warmed by Kozue’s lips instead.

Living with Kozue was not something she’s tried before. Not for long periods of time, or somewhere that didn’t feel as if they were escaping from their own lives and skins. But it was not a bad experience, as much as she sometimes felt the equivalent of when she once accidentally smoked a joint and ate brownies that weren’t simple brownies and began thinking the Paris streets were going to swallow her like a gentle whale. That one had been an accident, and Haru had laughed until she cried, holding her against her own body until she took Kaho home and let her sleep it off. Living with Kozue was no accident, but it still felt as if she was on the edge of something, just a step away from falling.

Kozue didn’t take much space, physically and materialistically at least. She smiled when Kaho showed her the space she made for her in her closet and didn’t take much space in her bathroom with her products. Kaho stared for far longer than necessary at their toothbrushes, side by side as if they always had belonged there. Kozue didn’t take much space, but her presence felt far too big in Kaho’s apartment- no, their apartment. Their apartment that Kaho had refused to accept anything but a yes from Kozue when she’d proposed she stayed there, instead of renting another apartment.

When Kozue returned, she took the day off, helped her set things in their places and ordered take out, eating with shy smiles and gentle laughter. The next day she had to go to work, despite the weird feeling in her chest as Kozue woke up earlier, made her coffee and sent her off with a smile. Haru welcomed her with a smile, didn’t ask why she didn’t come to work and instead simply updated Kaho on their schedule.

During lunch time, which she decided to skip due to a manuscript that needed to be sent to the printers that same day, Kaho spent her time on the balcony of their offices, a bottle of water beside her and a pack of cigarettes too. She wasn’t a smoker, not really, for many reasons from health to lack of desire, but it helped with focusing sometimes, the ritualistic movement of lighting a cigarette and resting it between her lips, smoke dissolving in air. She was on her second cigarette, and half of her water was gone when a hand grabbed the cigarette from her lips. Kaho rolled her eyes with a smile, still focusing on her laptop.

“Haru, I told you; you can just take a new cigarette, I don’t mind.”

“Didn’t you agree that smoking was bad?”

She spun around, glasses sliding down her nose. Kozue stood behind her, smiling and holding a box in her hand, cigarette between her lips. Kaho blinked. What was she doing there?

“Kozue-senpai?!”

Kozue placed the box beside her laptop and sat on the chair beside her. They were alone, despite the balcony having four other tables. Her coworkers preferred the bars around the building, and Kaho sometimes preferred working in silence. Kozue sat with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times before, elegant and smooth, sunglasses raised to keep her bangs away from her face.

“I brought you lunch.” Kaho looked at the box. “I don’t know if you already ate but… I thought I’d also come by. If that’s okay.”

Kaho touched the box, opens it slowly. Rice, vegetables. Had Kozue rearranged the meal to look like a bunny?

“I see Kozue-senpai learned how to cook.”

Kozue giggled, warm. “It’s much easier than most things, I have to admit.” She pulled the cigarette away from her lips, smoke flowing gently as she stubbed it. “You texted earlier that you would be busy during lunch, so I thought I’d make you something. Eating is important.”

It was nice. A kind, warm gesture that made Kaho blush pink. “You didn’t have to.”

“I didn’t.” Kozue met her eyes, gentle. “But I wanted to.” She looked down, at the papers around Kaho. “What are you working on now?”

They talked about the manuscript as Kaho ate, Kozue patient and attentive. It reminded Kaho of their younger selves, Kaho stealing Kozue away at the idol club room, eating as Kozue listened to her speak about what she’d read the other night. Some things never changed, she thought, or simply evolved in different forms. Haru found them like that, Kozue reaching out to wipe away a grain of rice stuck under her lip and laughing softly about something she was pointing at a page.

“Kaho, I see you have company.” Haru stood between them with a smile, hair brushed back and hands on her pockets. Her smile was curious, eyes reading between unspoken lines. “Do I have the opportunity to know who this beautiful lady is?”

Haru was charming in a way that would tether on cheesy if it wasn’t for her execution. Kozue laughed softly, cheeks pink, and stood up, shaking hands with Haru. Watching them side by side, smiling and highlighted by the rays of the sun, Kaho could see the resemblance. The confidence in their smiles, quiet and still potent, the sharpness of their shoulders and the politeness of their voices.

“Otomune Kozue. I’m Kaho’s…”

“Senpai.” She answered before she focused too much on Kozue’s dragging of the words, before she could hear what label Kozue would fit best for them after all that had happened. “She’s my Kozue-senpai.”

“Wait…” Haru focused, brows furrowing as if she was trying to find something in the depths of her mind. “You’re not… that Otomune Kozue, are you?”

“I suppose Paris has made me much lighter than interviews often portray me as.”

Kaho watched them as she ate the rest of her bento and wondered of all the pieces of the universe that made Haru be a Kozue fan. Kozue was famous, interviews on famous shows and rare orchestral concerts whose tickets cost more than her monthly rent famous. But Haru? Really? Was she able to ever be around someone who wouldn’t fall towards Kozue’s gravitational pull like a planet in the solar system?

“Kaho?” She was brought back to Earth by a warm voice. Haru stood too close to Kozue, delicately pulling Kozue’s arm around her own. Kozue was looking at her, gentle and patient. “Haru-san said that break would be over soon, so she can walk me to the entrance after I give her an autograph.”

“Oh, yeah! Of course! I’ll see you at dinner?”

Kozue nodded, hesitating before gently laying her hand against Haru’s forearm, murmuring something about a moment. Haru left with a nod and wink to Kaho, leaving them alone in the balcony. Kozue stepped closer, her shadow over Kaho despite both already being in the shade. Maybe Kaho needed to clean her glasses more. All thoughts fly out of the balcony, a bird that hasn’t learned yet to fly and free falls, as Kozue’s hand reached out, the tips of her fingers barely a breath against Kaho’s forehead. She moved her bangs to the side, brushing them to clear her vision. Kaho really had to go cut them.

Kozue leaned in, as quick as she was slow, a paradox, lips warm against her forehead, barely there if Kaho’s nerves weren’t so tuned to Kozue that she’d be able to smell her existence before Kozue even touched foot in Europe. She rested there, for a moment, fingers dragging against Kaho’s cheek before falling by her side as she pulled away.

“Work hard, okay?” She smiled, shy. “I’ll take care of dinner, so no need to bring take out.”

Kaho nodded mutely. Kozue flashed her one last look before stepping away. Kaho watched her go, meeting Haru by the door and allowing her arm to be taken again as they walked away. Kaho sat there and looked at the blurry reflection of herself on the glass that separated balcony from offices. Her forehead still felt warm, and she knew it wasn’t due to the afternoon heat.

When she took the final bite, she couldn’t keep the smile away from her lips, food tastier than she’d ever tried before.

They fell on a new dynamic, a dance whose steps they could follow with ease. Kozue worked on her laptop beside Kaho when she was at home, humming under her breath. Kaho read manuscripts, replied to her emails. Sometimes Kozue squinted at her laptop and Kaho passed her own glasses without paying much attention. Kozue would wear them and her hand would reach out to briefly touch her hand, a silent thank you. Kozue cooked when Kaho was late from work and Kaho cooked when she was early enough that dusk still found its way into her apartment, a purple hue that made Kozue’s smile softer and Kaho’s shyer.

They didn’t talk much. Kaho wasn’t afraid, either. It wasn’t a silence that sought to escape absolution, or one that chased after a surreal peace. It was a comfortable silence, one where Kozue’s back radiated warmth against her own as they sleep, one where Kozue returned from her run and Kaho found their coffees already made, cups beside one another. It hasn’t been the right moment yet. They were still learning to exist beside each other, to not flinch as their words got slower after some glasses of wine, to not murmur an excuse of needing fresh air when Kozue’s hands were far too warm against Kaho’s when she guided her to play on her new keyboard.

Days passed, Paris bustling around them. Kozue and she do chores together. Kaho met with her at the supermarket after work, speaking in low voices about their own projects as Kozue went through the list, as Kaho spoke in a smooth French to the cashier that still feels foreign to her tongue. Life went on and they along with it.

One evening, she and Haru stepped out of work laughing. Their newest manuscript had gotten approval and had been sent to printing. Both had worked overtime, sipping on water and munching through snacks as the words flew on the pages before them. By the end of all, Kaho had refused to take off her glasses, finding the world too blurry without them. When the fresh evening air hit their faces, Kaho paused for a deep breath.

“Ah, the fresh air of freedom!” said Haru. “And a beautiful lady waiting for you. Kaho, I have to say, you’re really enjoying Paris the right way.”

Kaho opened her eyes. Kozue stood further away, by a tree. There was a bouquet of flowers in her hand. Kaho could only tell their pink color. They walked towards her, and Kozue met them midway. Kaho felt warm, again, especially when she noticed the flowers were buttercups. Kozue didn’t hand them over just yet, picture perfect as she greeted them with a smile.

“Haru-san, Kaho. How was work?”

Haru released a yawn that Kaho was sure is fake. “So, so tiring! Thankfully, our genius here handled things well and managed to get us out before we turned into zombies.”

“It was group work, Haru. You worked hard too!”

“Was she always this humble back in your days too?”

Kozue nodded her head, chuckling. “Kaho always stepped up and did her best when you gave her something to be responsible for. I am happy to see that hasn’t changed.”

A sidestep. It made Kaho smile in a way her lips hadn’t forgotten, despite the time they hadn’t practised the movement. A smile only because of Kozue, of how she answered questions in a way that aimed to be truthful yet still complimentary. Carrot on a stick. Kaho just didn’t know where the carrot would lead her.

“Well, I’ll let you two be. There’s a sweet, sweet bed calling for me. Take care of yourselves!”

“You too,” she said, reaching out for a hug. She giggled when Haru raises her up, taking advantage of their height difference, both arms wrapped around her waist. When she pulled away, Kaho threw a look at the rustling she heard. Kozue was still smiling, but Kaho swore the flowers were gripped tighter than earlier. “I’ll see you on Monday!”

“See you! And a lovely evening to you too, Kozue-senpai!” Kaho rolled her eyes, still smiling as she waved Haru away. Her footsteps became almost like an echo when she turned to Kozue fully. Kozue was smiling at her, flowers in one hand, the other empty.

“Kozue-senpai.”

“Kaho.”

Kaho stepped closer despite not knowing what she wanted to do. Kozue was perhaps in the same situation, but Kaho’s breath caught in her throat when she stepped even closer, holding the flowers away, her other arm coming around Kaho’s waist. Kaho yelped loudly, laughter breaking from her throat as Kozue raised her up with one arm, Kaho’s arms coming around her shoulders. She was steady, despite Kaho’s weight and the use of only one arm, the hug warm and gentle.

When she put Kaho down, her cheeks were pink, despite the brave face she puts on. Kaho hated as much as she loved the fact that she has memories of that same blush in a situation different than this, a situation involving a Kozue that wanted to cross a line they hadn’t yet.

“What was that about?” she asked, voice light from laughter. Kozue shrugsged handing her the flowers. She took them with a wider smile. Her cheeks hurt, but she didn’t care, smelled the buttercups and held them against her chest.

“I thought you might like a hug as a greeting. It seems it was something you do with Haru-san.”

Kaho blinked. “I… Yes. We’re friends, after all.”

Kozue nodded. “Friends.” She began walking and Kaho kept by her side. “I thought it’d be nice if we could do the same, too.”

“Kozue-senpai is my friend now?”

It was a question whose weight she only felt after saying it out loud. It didn’t shake Kozue, or maybe Kaho was still unable to read her as well as she wanted to. Kozue looked at her, smile soft. Ah, there it was, the creasing of her eyes, the down pull of the left side of her smile. Shy, confident, earnest, hiding. Only her Kozue could be all opposites in one.

“If you would want me to be.”

“We never cared much for these kinds of words, did we?”

The brush of a hand against hers. Light, tethering. “You’re my… fated person.” Kaho refused to breathe, refused to look away even as Kozue did. “All words that lead to that are things I am happy to take as my own.”

Kaho’s fingers hovered next to Kozue’s. After a moment, they pulled Kaho’s hand in, holding unto it. Kozue still didn’t look at her, but she smiled as they walked. Kaho looked at her flowers, blinking the blurriness from her eyes and giggling at the warmth she felt on her cheeks.

“Well… Kozue-senpai really knows how to steal my words away.”

“If this evening goes well, hopefully I will be able to steal your tiredness away, too.” Kozue turned to her, eyes shining underneath the street lights. Kaho wanted to bottle the moment up and never let it go. “Haru-san told me the other day you enjoy Italian when tired. I made a reservation for us a bit later, so you can rest for a bit at home. What do you say?”

Kaho wanted to say she loves her. Kaho wanted to say that she ran away from her, that she kept Kozue as a memory as sharp as it was soft but kept her, kept her like a wound that she refused to let close even as it bled on her every day life. Kaho wanted to say that she came to Paris to escape her and realised there wasn’t a corner of the world that wasn’t painted in the same colours as Kozue. Kaho wanted to say she felt sixteen again, held up by the arms of a girl whose eyes felt as easy to get lost into as the woods she escaped. Kaho wanted to say many things, things she hadn’t uttered before, but her tongue was tied in a familiar way as it often was.

She simply nodded, tangling her fingers with Kozue’s. Kozue didn’t pull away, held her hand tighter than before.

“Sounds perfect,” she managed to whisper.

They continued to walk side by side, two girls, two women, two of thousands in the Parisian streets.

One evening, as she and Kozue looked through their work, sharing a bottle of wine between then, Ginko called her. Kaho answered, told her Kozue said hello. Ginko coughed, polite and shy, so like the girl beside her that it used to make Kaho ache inside.

“Kaho, may I ask you and Kozue-senpai for some advice?”

Kaho put her on speaker. “Go on, we both can hear you now.”

“Ginko, I hope you’re well since the last time we spoke.”

“The same goes for you too, senpai.” Ginko paused, and Kaho waited. Kozue shut her laptop, eyes tired and smile small as she met Kaho’s eyes. The duty of a senpai never ended. “I wanted to ask for your advice concerning something… personal.”

“We’re listening,” said Kozue. Kaho hummed, grasping at the bottle to fill their glasses again.

“Have you ever felt conflicted over more than one person?”

Kaho’s hand froze. Some wine spilled against her thumb and that snapped her to focus, licking her thumb and filling the glass. Kozue’s gaze on her was as harsh as the way which she swallowed, felt even if Kaho wasn’t looking at her.

“What do you mean, Ginko-chan?”

“When you two stood on stage, did you ever feel as if… something was missing? As if… even when you performed together, you knew you could shine brighter if there was someone else there too?”

Is this how parents felt when their children asked them questions they couldn’t find the answers of? Ginko wasn’t their child, and they weren’t her parents, but Kaho felt the situations were oddly familiar. How could she answer a question she had no idea how to even begin talking about with Kozue? The best way, she supposed, would be to not think at all.

“When we were together as Cerise Bouquet, our days were brilliant. But when Ginko-chan joined us, those days turned even more dazzling. The Cerise Bouquet we three shared might not have been the one Kozue-senpai and I had, nor the one we two had, but it was just as precious as either of them. They all shone in their ways, and I wouldn’t change a thing about them.”

“I… see.” Silence. The seconds passed by. Kozue tapped the laptop on her lap, a slow and steady beat. “Kozue-senpai, how was your bond with Megumi-senpai and Tsuzuri-senpai?”

Kozue’s tapping continued as she spoke, albeit slower. “The bond we shared… I don’t think there are words to describe it. Tsuzuri came to the world of idols because of me. Megumi was… Well. You are aware how passionate she is. If Tsuzuri were the ocean ahead, Megumi would be the fire that burnt by the sand.” Kozue smiled, eyes lost in memories Kaho could only ever be partially aware of. “I was the sand, I suppose. Or rather the wind around them. I would soothe Megumi as much as I’d make her burn more, and I’d create waves the same way I wouldn’t with Tsuzuri. We balanced each other out.”

“Forgive for… um, the audacity. But did you ever feel like… you were happy with one of them, but you couldn’t imagine your life without either?”

Kozue looked at her, then. Both seem to have realised what Ginko was dancing around, vague as she could be, honest as she could afford. It makes Kaho feel fond. Ginko was older now, the kind of older that knew how taxes worked and who had to meal prep for the week, who could drink alcohol and drive Kaho around when she’d visit. But there, even on the other side of the world and phone, she still felt like the teenager whose eyes shone brilliantly over the idol club, who warmed up to Kaho the same way a cat would, slowly and steadily.

“Love comes in different forms, Ginko-chan.” She took the mic, and Kozue left the stage to her. “What we felt, maybe you felt similar. Maybe not. But us in Cerise Bouquet…” She sighed, smiling with a fondness that was bittersweet. “We often refuse to move on from what we love. It’s part of our charm, tradition that is refreshing in the way it clings to something. Kozue-senpai was... no, she is my fated person. I might care deeply for you, and for the others, but Kozue-senpai will always remain my fated person. And for you, that person might be more than one, instead.” Kaho took a sip of her wine, gazing at the glass with a smile. “Sometimes, it’s as simple as that.”

For a moment, all three let the silence speak, Kaho’s words settling in. Kozue reacted first, a polite cough to bring attention to herself.

“Kaho couldn’t have put it to words any better.” She reached out, hand warm as it laid above Kaho’s on the couch between them. “What matters is that you give your all to the choice you make, Ginko, and I’m sure everything will be okay.”

A small laughter, light and warm. “I’m… happy I could ask you both. Thank you.”

They closed the call with a promise to call again, and then they were left alone, sitting side by side staring as the screen of the phone went black. Kaho filled their glasses again. Kozue reached for the plate of small sandwiches they’d made earlier. Despite having their laptops on their laps, neither make a move to open them and begin working again.

“I would have chosen to be kinder.” Kaho didn’t look at Kozue. Even if Kozue spoke, she didn’t look at Kaho, either. “If I could have had a second try. Honesty doesn’t have to be painful.”

Her mouth was dry, words slipping past feeling mangled. There was no need to ask for what she meant. “We can’t change the past, Kozue-senpai.”

A soft sigh. Kozue’s hand pulled away from hers. It felt incredibly cold. Had it always felt this complicated to talk to Kozue?

“I know,” she murmured. “I just wish we could, at times.”

The next day, it rained heavily. Kaho stared in horror from inside her office, reaching to her bag knowing she wouldn’t find an umbrella there. She could hitch a ride with Haru, or maybe—

Her phone pinged. Kaho looked at it.

Kozue-senpai: I noticed your umbrella is by the door. I will come and pick you up whenever you tell me you are done with your work for the day.

Or that. She smiled, replied with an array of emojis, and her chest warmed when Kozue replied with a smiling face emoji and one with sunglasses. She was trying too, in her own way. It made Kaho happy she was able to notice that. That same warmth stayed in her chest thorough the day, until it was time to leave and she found Kozue waiting by the entrance of the building. She was on her phone, frowning as if what she was reading was more confusing than not.

Kaho stared at her for a moment, still inside. She’d never been more thankful for the glass doors. Kozue was there, and she had yet to leave. Leave Paris, leave her apartment, leave Kaho. She hadn’t done that. She could have but didn’t. She’d turned around, and this time such an action didn’t lead to separation but to its opposite. Kozue never truly left her. Kaho knew that, even if she’d never returned to Paris, if she’d asked for Kozue’s help, she’d find Kozue at her doorstep in mere hours. But Kozue had come by her own choice, had stayed without Kaho clinging to her. That must mean something. It had to. It had to mean something that they’d refused to fully let go of each other all this time.

“Kaho,” said Kozue, smiling widely as she reached her side. Kaho allowed herself to hug Kozue, just to feel the way she tensed up before hugging Kaho back, cheek resting against Kaho’s head. She was soft, warm, and even if the rain was pouring loudly around them, she could hear Kozue’s heartbeat, steady under her ear. “How was work?”

When they walked, Kozue always tipped the umbrella towards her side. Kaho didn’t say anything, despite the guilt when they’d reach her apartment and half of Kozue’s coat would be soaked by the rain. She liked Kozue’s care, the way she held the umbrella as they walked, how attentive she was. Kaho had missed it more than she’d ever thought she did, missed it as she drank her coffee with a younger Kozue’s voice messages playing in her ears, missed her as she stared at the unused tea box and missed her when she’d have a fever and would think of how Kozue would sing her to sleep for those two lucky years they lived in the same place and shared a dream. She could be selfish this once, enjoy this small act of Kozue caring for her silently.

They paused before reaching her apartment building. Despite the life bustling around them, both had sharp hearing, sharp enough to hear the pathetic meow coming from the alley beside them.

“Is that…?”

Kozue frowned. They heard the same sad meow again, and Kozue followed her to the alley. And there it was. In a small card box, a small kitten sat. The rain poured over it, and Kaho met its eyes. They were wide, reflecting the street light right outside the alley. It had the same eyes Kozue had had that day Kaho had found her crying, unable to stand her own ambition and loss over Love Live. Full of desire to be out of the place it was stuck, and unable to do so. Perhaps she was dramatic or delusional, but she could somehow see all that in the kitty’s eyes.

“Can we take it in?”

Kozue didn’t reject her, as she thought, nor did she say something about how it wouldn’t be that safe to pick a random street cat. But Kaho had seen street cats, fed them when she could and seen them run away. This kitten was unmoving, only meowing and looking up at them. Waiting. It was waiting for them to choose it. To not leave it behind.

Kozue handed her the umbrella, smiling kindly before kneeling before the kitten. She laid out a hand, didn;t move until the kitten stumbleed and licked at her fingers gently. Kozue was like that, she knew that, leaving out a hand and waiting for you to grab it. She grabbed the kitten with gentle hands, and held it gently against her chest, uncaring of dirtying her expensive coat. Kaho reached out, and both giggled as the kitten wrapped its paws around Kaho’s fingers, teeth sharp but playful against the tip of her fingers.

“Let’s take you in, little guy,” murmured Kozue, voice warm, eyes warmer when they meet Kaho’s.

Kaho has never loved her the way she did then, holding something innocent so delicately in her hands as if this was something she did on the regular. Considering she was living with Kaho, perhaps caring for those that sought care was something that came second nature to her.

She loved her even more, knowing that.

They washed the kitten in the best way they could, and Kozue let her dry him as she tried searching for where she could buy some cat food. The kitten was the calmest Kaho had ever seen, which made her wonder if someone had abandoned it. She’d seen street cats, and this one was too relaxed for one. Kaho frowned, hugging the kitten closer. The kitty’s green eyes blinked at her, purring as Kaho scratched under his chin.

“We need to find you a name, don’t we?”

The kitten meowed as Kaho placed the towel down, picking him up like a baby. His fur was black, and now that it was dried and clean, it shone under the warm light of her bathroom. He was the cutest cat Kaho had ever seen in her life. Maybe she was biased, but he was.

“What do we think about… Ame? We found you as it rained, so…”

The kitten only stared. Was that a refusal? Kaho laid a hand against his tummy and giggled as he hugged it with his paws.

“Hm… Kuro?”

No meowing, only staring at her with big, googly green eyes. Eyes that reminded her so much of Kozue’s. Kaho grinned, looking at the kitten as if she’d share a secret with him.

“What about… Yomi-kun?” The kitten blinked, and let out a small meow. Kaho’s grin fell into a small smile, fond. “Kun Yomi means a small twig, and your eyes remind me a lot of Kozue-senpai’s. Since I call her Kozue-senpai, how about I call you Yomi-kun?”

Yomi-kun meowed and didn’t jump out of her arms when she hugged him close to her chest, his claws clinging to her shirt and his head snuggling under her chin. That was decided, at least. Kozue returned, knocking on the open door with a smile. She looked at them for a moment, before she shook herself out of her thoughts, flashing Kaho her phone.

“A supermarket nearby seems to have the necessary food for a young kitten. I will go and pick some up.” She kneeled before them, amused as the kitten curled closer to Kaho when she tried petting him. “Do you want anything else? I can pick up some dinner too.”

“Burgers at La Quintessence?”

“Extra fries?”

Kaho nodded, pleased. Kozue hummed, leans closer, and for a second, she almost thought Kozue wanted to kiss her. She did, but not where she’d thought, lips soft against her forehead. She didn’t say anything else, flashed Kaho one last smile, rubbed a gentle finger underneath Yomi-kun’s chin, her steps light as she walked away. Kaho heard her put on her coat, her shoes, open the door and leave.

She looked in her arms. Yomi-kun looked up at her, blinking slowly the way cats did. She laid a kiss on the top of his head, giggling when Yomi-kun purred loudly.

“Welcome home, Yomi-kun.”

Yomi-kun became part of their lives as seamlessly as Kozue became part of hers. Kaho fed him breakfast, Kozue fed him snacks during the day and Kaho giggled when Kozue appeared by her workplace with the little guy put in a cat bag, meowing loudly when Kaho would join them. The cat, despite spending more time with Kozue, preferred Kaho, which made Kozue glare half-heartedly whenever she’d sit next to her and Yomi-kun would slither between them, head tilted to rub underneath Kaho’s chin. Kaho would giggle and shower him in praises and kisses, and Kozue would sigh and glare at the cat. It was, for a lack of better word, comfortable. Warm. What she’d missed all along.

Days passed. Soon, three months passed with Kozue being part of her life. There was no word of Kozue leaving, even if sometimes Kaho would go to bed leaving Kozue still awake, apologetic to take a meeting in Japan’s different time zone. Sometimes she’d keep her company, half asleep by Kozue’s warm voice as she talked music and ideas for Megumi’s next album. Other times she’d wait for her awake in bed, Kozue slithering in the bed just as Yomi-kun slithered in her arms, so quick you’d almost miss it.

But Kaho always noticed. The dipping of the bed, how Kozue’s hand laid next to her body, never touching but close enough to feel the warmth of Kaho’s body, how even if she’d go to sleep in the early morning, she’d still wake first and make Kaho breakfast and lunch for her day. Their dynamic felt as familiar as it felt unfamiliar, Kozue’s care and attention less that of a senpai and more of someone who truly cared for you. Kaho loved it as much as it made her feel like she was fifteen and being chased after to become a manager for an idol club.

Kaho wasn’t the only one to notice things. Kozue did too, as she always does. Noticed things about Kaho that Kaho wanted to ignore, that wanted to push through. She noticed when Kaho kept massaging her neck, aching from how much she’s had to read looking down, reached out without looking away from her laptop, thumb pressing on the tense muscles of Kaho’s shoulders and neck. She noticed when her glass was empty and filled it, noticed when Kaho went to sleep with a headache and woke with a burning forehead.

“Kaho?” Another thing Kaho noticed: the coolness of Kozue’s hand against her forehead. “Goodness, you’re burning.”

“Kozue-senpai… You’re so cold…”

“Let me get you a cold towel—”

“No… Just…” Her head felt heavier than if a truck was resting above it. “Just sit here. Your hand is calming down my headache. Just a bit then I’ll stand up.”

“Kaho, you’re not moving from your bed,” said Kozue, voice soft. She pushed her bangs away, her hand gentle. Kaho closed her eyes again, knowing she would have to politely reject whatever Kozue suggested. She still had the hard copy of their latest manuscript, and Haru needed it if she had to finish all final edits. And there was that meeting she had with the new translators—

“I need to go to work. I’m… okay…”

Those words turned to be a lie, especially when she made to sit up and promptly fell against Kozue’s chest. Even Kozue’s neck was cooler than her forehead, and she moaned softly when Kozue pulled her closer, her weight easier to bear. Kozue moved slowly, and Kaho heard her own phone unlocking. Was she checking her calendar? She’d told Kozue once she put everything she needed to do there.

“You need to deliver a manuscript?”

“And… take some meetings.”

“What if I take the manuscript to your office? I’ll also let Haru-san know for your meetings.”

She raised her head weakly. Up close, Kozue’s smile was filled with worry, but her eyes were set. This situation wasn’t something Kaho had hope of fighting and winning against. Kozue laid her down gently, slowly, still protectively holding her against herself until Kaho’s head hit the pillow.

“Rest, okay?” Kozue’s hand met her forehead again. “I’ll handle things. Try to sleep until I come back.”

Hours passed in a cloudy space between awake and not. The cold towel on her forehead warmed, and the shadows grew longer. Yomi-kun joined her after a while, resting against her body and meowing pathetically for comfort. At one point, her phone vibrated, and she looked at it with bleary eyes. A message from Haru, or multiple, and Kaho caught Kozue’s name in some of them. She let the screen turn black, turning where she could still feel Kozue’s warmth and scent and let herself fall asleep again.

When she opened her eyes again, she found Kozue sitting by her bedside, tearing open a cold fever patch. Kaho let her move her bangs away, moaned lightly when the cool patch met the warm skin of her forehead. She really was burning up, wasn’t she? If this kept for longer, she’d have to take the medicine her doctor had prescribed her for such cases. Even as an adult, her health was still a thing to be careful with.

“How are you feeling?” Kozue’s voice was a melody, a song of the heavens. “I got you medicine, and I’m warming you some chicken soup.”

“Kozue-senpai…” Kaho smiled weakly, leaned her face against her hand. Kozue held her cheek gently, the weight of her head safe in her grasp. “You’re back…”

“I… Yes? I told you I’d be. Did I take long?”

“I don’t know. I’m just glad you’re here.” Kaho met Kozue’s eyes, blurry despite how much she blinked to clear her vision. “I thought I dreamt you for a bit.”

“Did you now?”

“Hm. Best dream ever. And now you’re real.” Kaho blinked, and Kozue seemed to take pity, gently rubbing underneath her eyes before lowering a cold cloth on her eyes. The effect was immediate, and Kaho sighed happily at the cold weight. “That feels good…”

“I’m glad. I’m sure after you eat and take something you will feel better. I’ll go check on the soup now- Kaho?”

Kaho was glad she was unable to look at Kozue, but her thumb felt Kozue’s heartbeat on her wrist, her hand shooting to grasp at it blindly. Was she silly? Perhaps the heat that had overcome her was taking over her brain too. Kozue hadn’t moved, and Kaho knew she easily could pull away, could leave Kaho in bed alone and sick and Kaho would most likely forgive her because surely Kozue would have a good enough reason for that—

“Just… stay here.” Kaho knew the stinging in her eyes wasn’t just because of her temperature. “Just like this. Don’t leave me.”

Her bed dipped. A body pressed against hers, arms sliding underneath her body, and Kaho felt her cheek press against Kozue’s chest, a warm hand on her back keeping her against Kozue’s body. Had Kozue…?

“Remember when I got sick in high school? Perhaps you don’t remember,” said Kozue. Kaho wanted to say that there was a higher chance of Kaho forgetting when she was born than that happening. “But I felt very bad, and you did this for me. It was, in retrospective, a funny moment. You were smaller than you are now, and the bed was too, so I had to curl up to an almost uncomfortable way to let you be able to hold me.”

Kozue’s heartbeat was slow, steady. A lullaby.

“I felt useless those days. We had songs to compose, routines to learn, homework to do, and all I could do was lay in bed. Even if your health was delicate, every night you still spent your time holding me like this until I fell asleep. I’m…” Kozue sighed, holding Kaho closer. “I’m ashamed to admit I wish I could have enjoyed those moments more. I was so focused on not feeling embarrassed, that I forgot to feel how… warm it was, to be cared that way.”

Kaho felt that there was a long list of words and things she was able to say, but none felt right for this moment. None felt like paying her mind a visit, so she simply laid there, held and tired.

“I’ll stay here until you fall asleep again,” murmured Kozue. “Then I’ll go warm the soup and feed you.” Another weight moved, and a chuckle escaped Kozue. “Yomi-kun will keep you company too.”

The cat meowed, as if sensing Kaho was weak and wanting to help. It made Kaho smile too, but she refused to move her only free hand. Kozue had said nothing, and remained saying nothing, despite the tight grip of Kaho’s hand in her forearm, refusing to let go. She simply held Kaho, and when she began humming softly, Kaho felt her consciousness slip away from her grasp.

Kozue, however, remained in her grasp until dreams took her away.

Eating dinner was a far less embarrassing time than Kaho had expected. Kozue sat before her and fed both from the same plate, blowing on each spoon of the soup before feeding it to her. Someone could have said that it was likely unhygienic, and a sure way for Kozue to get sick, but Kaho didn’t care. Kozue smiled at her softly and held her hand gently, and that was all she really needed.

“I received an email earlier,” said Kozue. Kaho hummed. She had to check hers too. “I think you might have received it too. Hasunosora has invited us to give a speech and to talk to the current idol club.”

Kaho grinned, already feeling energies seep in. “Really?! For when?! Wait, Kozue-senpai, grab me my—” Kozue had already reached to the night stand, smiling when Kaho grabbed the phone from her hand. She yelped, excited to see that Kozue had been right. “We’re really invited! We cordially invite you as alumni to celebrate the opening of a new building in honour of the support and life that the idol club has given our school.”

“The idol club really has flourished ever since our days, hasn’t it?”

“I suppose so!” said Kaho. Kozue fed her another spoon, and Kaho swallowed before talking again. “I mean, I keep up to date, so I know they are. But a whole new building? Back in our days—” Kozue snorted, hiding it by chewing on her piece of bread. Kaho glared, teasingly. “Back in our days, we just had our club room and the dance room. Well, and our performance stage. Bloom Garden’s yearly success seems to have done its job.”

“Times won’t wait for us to change,” replied Kozue. “Do you think they will still keep our old club room there, now that the building is being inaugurated?”

Kaho paused. There was most likely no reason to keep those rooms there. The club room… the dance room… Those were the places where she’d grown, where she’d shed tears and shared smiles and felt herself take the first steps towards her future. It’d been almost ten years since the time she was a student, and the melancholy of Hasunosora had mellowed out, but something akin to grief grasped at her chest. It was one thing to know the past was there, another to see it erased.

“I… We need to go.”

“Hm?”

“To the club room. For one last time.”

Kozue tilted her head, curious yet knowing, a contradiction wrapped in a pretty smile. “Feeling melancholic?”

Kaho felt many things. The warmth of Kozue’s body against her thighs, the sharpness of her eyes as they looked at Kaho, Kozue’s scent that now had become part of the apartment. They had yet to talk in detail, but steps had been taken that they could never take back. Yomi-kun meowed beside her, purring happily as she scratched his head. They’d kissed, that first day. Agreed to live together for months now. Kozue had become a part of her as her arm or leg was, unconsciously aware of every step she took.

Paris was her escape, her new beginning, yet in moments like this, Kaho felt like it was Shimoda all over again. How long could they keep this going until things hit a roadblock again? Kozue had begged her for another chance, and Kaho was willing to keep the peace. But for how long? How long could they dance the way they were now? Would they even be able to reach April in one piece, or still talking?

A thought flew past her, a thunder in an open sky. Kozue’s tears, her knees on the floor, looking up at Kaho like the light at the end of the tunnel, hands warm and clinging to hers. She’d made a promise back then, hadn’t she? The place where it all began. The place where she uttered the words that kept her tied to Kozue, that led them to Shimoda and led them to Paris and would lead them forward.

Would Kozue be afraid? Would she be courageous? What would happen, thought Kaho, if it was the time for Kozue to make a promise? Would Kaho trust her as Kozue trusted her once? Would her words reach her heart?

“The past doesn’t define our future,” said Kaho. Her hand didn’t reach out, but she was aware of how close it was to Kozue’s. She could reach out if she wanted to. She didn’t. “But it can hold the answers for it. Maybe what we’re looking for is still waiting for us at that club room. Don’t you think?”

Kozue stared at her silently for a moment, suddenly too young and gentle, unafraid and curious for what the unknown held. As if deciding something in her head, silent as Kaho had been, she cracked a smile. Her fingers reached out, grasping Kaho’s. Not holding hands, but still a link. Still a silent message.

“Then let’s go and find it in April,” said Kozue. Her eyes held unto Kaho’s, as if reading her thoughts. “Together.”

Kaho could only smile, opening her mouth for the next spoon. And that was it, she supposed.

Her sickness, under Kozue’s watchful gaze and warm kindness, released her from its grasp much faster than the other times when she’d simply pushed through it. It made sense, she thought, that bedrest and warm food and the Kozue element would be better for her than, say, eating instant ramen as her bloodshot eyes read through another manuscript, a cold patch that had already lost its coolness stuck to her forehead. She was free, at least, and returned to the office as if a part of her had missed it. And she had. There was a certain peace she felt at her routine, at doing things she enjoyed, at seeing familiar faces. Perhaps the distance from Kozue’s overwhelming aura wasn’t something bad, at least.

Days pass again, and something brewed within her. It wasn’t something negative, per say, or worrisome. Kaho spent her evenings watching Kozue pour over new tracks, over humming new tunes. She spent her mornings and afternoons going through works with a pen and desire to make them better, even if at times the stray thought that she could do something equally just as good struck her. It was a thought that refused to truly leave, even if it came back at moments she couldn’t predict. Kaho kept it safe, nonetheless, unwelcome as it felt, hid it deep in her heart.

Things could stay hidden for only so long. Kaho stood before her coworkers grinning, holding a trophy that was clearly brought at the local store by Haru. She’d hit a milestone about something referring to number of projects she’d undertaken, or reviews received by their clients, Kaho wasn’t paying much attention as Haru dragged her from the door of the offices to the middle of them. She held a speech that she doesn’t remember what she said in, made all return to their work and sat at her desk with the trophy in front of her.

“Couldn’t you have told me before?” she asked, embarrassed. “I don’t even remember what I said!”

“That’s how surprises work, dearest Kaho! One more thing to write home and to your dear girlfriend about.”

“I don’t need to write to Kozue-senpai, we live together- Hey! I saw what you did there!”

“And still fell for it! God, this is so entertaining. What do you think our local beautiful musician will give you as reward?”

“Well, whatever she can come up with tonight? Maybe we can go out for dinner. Wait…” Kaho stared at Haru’s mischievous grin with furrowed brows. “Wait, did Kozue-senpai know about this?”

“She didn’t not know—”

“Haru, oh my god—”

“Hey now! It came up when she delivered your things last week! Don’t hit me with that trophy, it is cheap, and it’s only until the party this Friday.”

“We’re doing something there too?!”

“Sure are!” Haru slipped off her table, hit her shoulder with a smile. “Get ready, dear leader! Time to practice your beautiful smile and dazzle us all!”

Despite her slight annoyance, she could not hide her smile. It felt good, embarrassment aside, to be rewarded for her work. It was something that she started in a whim, as an attempt at doing something she loved while not exactly doing it, and look where it’d gotten her. In Paris, receiving an award for her expectational work.

The day passed fast, as it usually did, and Kozue waited for her at home. Kaho expected something big, maybe a party, maybe a big surprise. She was tired, but she would smile because it was something Kozue had done for her, that she’d taken the time to do just to celebrate something like a job award. She was, instead, awarded with confusion.

Kozue opened the door wearing an apron reading Kiss the chief in French, something she’d gotten her on a whim when they’d gone shopping once. Her smile was big, and her hair was in a similar hairstyle to high school. She took Kaho’s bag with ease, murmuring something about the kitchen. Kaho followed silently, almost as if waiting for something to happened. Nothing did. But something had happened.

Kozue left her alone in the living room area, and all Kaho could do was stare stunned. There was her red tablecloth thrown over the table, the one adorned with small white bunnies. A candle lit dinner, with plates and napkins in bunny shapes and everything. Kozue returned, one hand holding a bottle of wine and another two empty glasses.

“I thought you might enjoy something quieter to celebrate tonight,” said Kozue, placing them down. “I know you don’t need to hear it from me, but I’m very proud—”

Kaho hugged her, because she felt she could do nothing else to stop herself from saying something that would destroy the mood. Kozue smelt like garlic and lemon and something deeply, intimately Kozue. Kaho felt her relax in her arms, one arm around Kaho’s back, her other hand coming up behind Kaho’s head, resting gently. Kozue held her without saying anything, as if reading her the same way she had for this dinner. This had been exactly what Kaho had needed, wasn’t it? Something slow to deal with her long day, something slow and intimate and casual that she could slow down with. Kozue had given it to her without her asking for it, and Kaho wondered just how many other things Kozue would be willing to give her without Kaho having to ask.

They settled for dinner soon enough, Kozue bringing out four plates that she held at the same time. It was impressive, Kaho had to admit. Fresh seafood, from what she could see, oysters and shrimp and all else, all accompanied by a plate of spaghetti each. They sat side by side in Kaho’s round table, speaking idly of their day and eating slowly. By the time they finished the spaghetti, they were already on the second bottle of white wine, Kozue nursing her glass slowly as Kaho drank through laughter and giggles. She was most likely a bit drunk.

“So… how do you feel?”

“Hm…?”

“About the award,” clarified Kozue. “Haru-san spoke to me, and you told me how happy you felt. But… I feel like there’s something else.”

“Kozue-senpai and her sixth sense…”

Kaho sighed, stood up and stretched. Kozue looked at her with sharp eyes, saying nothing as Kaho grabbed the wine bottle and went towards the French doors, opening them to allow fresh air to come in. It was a cool evening. She slid down on the floor, sat half against the railing and half against the wall, staring outside. After a moment, Kozue sat opposite of her, glass in hand and legs elegantly crossed.

“Have you… this feels silly to ask. I know you did. But… humour me for a moment.”

“I will. Tell me.”

“Have you ever… ever wanted something? But at the same time, you don’t know how to want it. Or how exactly do you want it.”

Kozue froze, her wine slowly coming to a stop in the glass. Kaho noticed, even if slightly drunk, because the difference was enough to tell, because ever since Shimoda she felt like Kozue was a bomb waiting to explode, and so Kaho had to care for the tiniest of sounds before she accidentally stepped on a mine. Even their happiness now wasn’t stable, and Kaho would be a fool to hope otherwise. But she was a fool for still clinging to it, for just a moment more with the woman in front of her.

“I see you have yet to find the answer to your questions,” said Kozue. Kaho shook her head, raised the bottle for another gulp of wine. It warmed her throat, even as she swallowed and remained with an empty mouth. “Oh? Why are you asking me then?”

“I want to be a writer.”

The statement held weight, yet it did not fall between them as Kaho was expecting. Kozue nodded, slowly and with a smile, as if expecting it. Kaho took another swing at the bottle and began speaking.

“When I was young, all the time I’d imagine stories. It was how I coped with my days, when I was alone and mom and dad were at work. It was what kept me alive. That left place to Hasunosora and… and I was writing my own story, my own life.” Kaho licked her lips, focused on one spot to get rid of the ache behind her eyes. “Then that story ended, as all stories do. And… and I had no other idea, no other spark. It was just me lacking the hope of my younger years but not the desperation to make something out of my life.”

“Hence the travel.”

“Hence the travel,” repeated Kaho with a smile. “We never speak of that year, do we? The year of the recordings, a year without them. Sometimes I think things would have been different if you’d given them to me.”

“I… I could not give them to you. When you began your travels, I thought it… unwise, I suppose, to impose upon your discovery journey my own thoughts.”

“Ah. Well, add that to the list of things we don’t speak of,” mused Kaho. Her head felt clear, yet she could not move her eyes too much. It made her feel as if the world was swaying around her, as if stuck inside jello. “Do you remember, Kozue-senpai? The night after our first and last Bloom Garden Party together?”

The change wasn’t easy to notice. Kozue stared at her, silent and unmoving. Kaho caught her eyes and refused to break the gaze. Kozue could not escape her. Kaho wouldn’t allow it. Not now.

“We kissed, didn’t we?” Kaho smiled. “That night. When you decided to sleep in my room instead of leaving immediately for Tokyo.”

Nine years ago, on the last day of her life as a student, Hinoshita Kaho managed to smuggle Otomune Kozue in her dorm room. Half of her things were already packed, the other half strewn around the room. Kozue did not mind, nor when Kaho opened the covers of her bed and she slipped beside her. The conversation they shared was mellow, not of much importance. Kaho doesn’t even remember much of it. What she remembers is Kozue’s smile, the way in which she held Kaho’s hands when they faced each other.

It had been like their kiss at the beach, hadn’t it? That same sense of warmth, of unspoken finality. The lights of the room were off. Kozue’s breath was warm. Their voices lured to silence, the sound of Kozue licking her lips, of Kaho swallowing. Then their lips meeting, slowly and silently, barely moving expect to kiss better. Then Kozue had moved, trapping Kaho underneath her body, Kaho’s hands gripping her shoulders, kissing until Kozue pulled away and smiled at her, cheeks red and smile soft. She’d laid by her side after, one arm thrown over Kaho’s stomach, her head resting next to Kaho’s on her one pillow she’d left out. The next morning, they hadn’t spoken of it. Kaho was scared, perhaps, she can’t remember exactly, that were she to talk of it, the magic would disappear, that it’d lose the sweetness of an almost dream that the moment had had. Kozue hadn’t said anything either, allowing Kaho to walk her to the driver waiting for her outside, hugging and leaving her behind. The next morning, Kaho had packed her things and left home, only to leave again for her journey.

Kozue reached out. “If you’d asked me months ago, I might have given you a better response. Now I might need a sip of that.”

Kaho allowed her to grab the bottle, and Kozue drank from it, refusing to look away even as she gulped thrice. Her lips were red, and she licked them clean. Even with the state of her mind, relaxed and slow, Kaho noticed all these as a hawk would.

“I know that we… never spoke of it,” began Kozue. Her voice was hesitant in the words they uttered. “I am also aware I was the one to… make the move. That night. I apologise.”

“Because Kozue-senpai regrets it and couldn’t tell me?”

“Because it wasn’t proper.” Their legs spread before each other, tangled with each other. Kaho could hear Yomi-kun by the couch, shuffling until he got comfortable again. “I was your senpai. I still am. There are proper ways to behave, and… What I did wasn’t right.” Kozue raised her hand, massaging her eyes. She looked tired, but Kaho was selfish, wanted her to speak the truth. “It’s… At the beach too. And…” That first night she was back in Paris, where she looked into Kaho’s eyes and allowed herself to be pulled closer. “I couldn’t give you the tapes. I took them with me, for Bloom Garden. I couldn’t, after the kiss. It felt wrong.”

“That’s not fair, senpai,” said Kaho. She swirled the wine around, the bottle tipping dangerously before she placed it on the ground. “It’s just not. You know I’d always want your guidance. Or… or you.”

“I know. It doesn’t mean I… We both want what’s best for each other. Sometimes, sadly, they seem to be going on opposite directions.”

“Do you still… think the same?”

“I…” Kozue opened her eyes. Her gaze was warm, sincere in a way Kaho had rarely seen in her. Full of innocence, full of emotions that she refused to hide. “I’m here, aren’t I? I can’t… I can’t go against what my heart wants.”

“Didn’t stop you from pulling away,” replied Kaho. She sighed. “That was mean, I didn’t… I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“Neither do I.”

“Yet we end up hurting each other.”

“Yet we do.”

“So… Might as well try to do what we can, and hope for the best. Even without me, you managed to create a path for yourself. Despite all, it ended well.”

“But I wasn’t as happy as I could have been. And I didn’t have you either.” Kaho tried to remember where the conversation had even derailed from. “Years later I find out I had you and didn’t even know I did. Either way, you’re right, senpai, my life did take a path in its own. University, then a recommendation that took me here.”

“Fate works in beautiful ways,” said Kozue. Kaho knew she just wanted to say something to show she was listening. It made her smile. “And now you’re in Paris.”

“With an award about my accomplishments in editing.” Kaho leaned back, sat straighter. Kozue’s legs had extended, laying parallel against hers, feet reaching the wall beside her. “I think I’m ready.”

“Ready?”

“To write my own story again. Or at least, a story. My own work, from start to finish.”

Kozue looked at her, and Kaho could tell she was thinking. She allowed her and used the time to gather her wits. Her mind was swimming, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. Kaho watched as Kozue took the bottle in her lips and drank again, this time swallowing in large gulps. Kaho was fixated with the way her throat moved, at the sliver of wine that slid past her lips. She wanted to wipe it away with her—

“I was too afraid to become a singer.”

“Huh?” Kaho blinked, shook her head to focus on Kozue. “What?”

“I left Hasunosora assured that I could carry on the legacy of Cerise Bouquet, that I could continue shining the light our stage lit in me. I couldn’t. Each time I wanted to make something of my own I froze, and soon I became too used to making music for Megumi, to playing classical pieces played a thousand times before me.”

“Ah. That’s… um…”

“I wanted to sing with you,” confessed Kozue, voice quiet. The reflection of the street lights warmed the side of her face, green eyes dark as they stared at the wine bottle in her hands. “I wanted the stage we had again. That rush, that thrill, the happiness of sharing something beautiful from my heart with someone who truly understood it. I never felt that. I just… I settled for the next best thing. If I couldn’t have my own music, I’d have that of another.”

Kaho understood her in ways she never had before. She remembered her own self, staring at the email saying she’d been accepted in the position. Kaho thought of how she used to wish she could have a bigger influence on the authors, on how to change small things for a greater result, of feeling even slightly the warmth of creating something with her heart. She loved her job, did it with passion, yet at that moment, she realised it hadn’t been just her chasing after the shadow of a past that was no more.

“I don’t regret the choices I made,” murmured Kozue. It was Kaho’s turn to freeze. “I don’t. Back then, at Shimoda. I’d go through that pain again for eternity if it meant you’d get here. Sometimes… the path that shows us our way is the one we take without much thought. The path we allow our instincts to choose. Do you…” Kozue looked at her, and Kaho didn’t miss the shiny gleam of her eyes. “Don’t you think so too? That there’s a reason all that happened happened? Do you… Do you think it was for the best?”

Kozue must have been a bit drunk, realised Kaho. Drunk enough to lose her trail of thought, drunk enough to share these feelings with Kaho. There could be no other way, no other reason of the pathetic look on Kozue’s face that Kaho loved so much. Kaho grabbed the wine bottle and drank for herself. Kozue waited.

“I think you were a coward,” said Kaho. Her voice was weak, and she hated the way Kozue flinched slightly. “I still do. I… I wanted you there. I wanted you. If I’d known you felt this way… this same way that I did… I…”

What would she do? Beg Kozue to continue be with her? Beg Kozue for something she knew Kozue would never give her? Something she asked from Kozue that day at the beach and was rejected? Kaho remembered her own self, eighteen and staring at bright green eyes, remembered Ginko;s warmth as she held her hands, the way she stared at Kaho as if she was the hope of the universe, the light of her life. Kaho couldn’t be that for Ginko, even if she so desperately wished, even if the devotion she received made her toes curl. Had it been the same for Kozue? Had it?

But it wasn’t, thought Kaho. It wasn’t the same. What she and Ginko shared was only but a shade of the colours that Kozue and Kaho painted each other’s lives. What she and Kozue had was something that refused to die, a flower that refused to wither no matter how much snow would fall upon it. She understood Kozue, a tiny bit, just enough to soften the edges of her body, enough for Kozue to soften too. What happened was meant to happen. It could not have gone any differently for them.

“I still wanted you to tell me how you felt,” murmured Kaho. “If only to know I wasn’t alone in how I felt.”

“You… I thought you’d know. I thought you’d have known.”

“I…” Kaho sighed, closed her eyes. “There’s no way to know what could have happened. You and I made the choices we made. I could wish upon a star and a thousand gods and still nothing would change.”

“I… I wish something did.” Kozue leaned again, grabbed the bottle and took a swing, handed it over after she had done so. “I wish we hadn’t fought the way we did. It’s selfish and illogical, but I still wish I’d have done something that wouldn’t allow that to happen.”

Kaho had nothing to say, and so she said nothing, simply stared at Kozue and allowed herself to be looked at. All ten years of distance and tears and longing had led them there, on the floor of an apartment in Paris, sharing a bottle of wine and sharing wishes that were useless for everything but a silent understanding to pass between them.

After a moment, it seemed as if something had clicked in Kozue’s brain.

“You should write your story.” Kaho blinked. Kozue’s expression had cleared, shining bright. “Become a writer. Do it.”

“Should I?”

“If anyone should, it’s you.” Kozue reached over, this time to grab her hands in both of hers. Kaho could barely see them, the way they wrapped around Kaho’s and around the bottle. “I want you to. And I want you to be afraid to want this too. Don’t do what I did. Be selfish. Do it scared. Just…” Kozue lowered her head, or perhaps it fell, too tired to look up at Kaho. “Shine bright. Cling to this dream and chase it. It’s your dream and yours alone after all.”

Kaho sat there, the warmth of Kozue’s hands seeping deep in her blood. Kozue was right. It was Kaho’s dream, her first, selfish and truly hers dream. Hers in a way blooming hadn’t been, a development of it rather than something new altogether; hers in the way it was precise and cut-throat the same way Kozue’s once had been, the same way she’d wished to have had. It was her dream. And Kozue was there, holding her hands and begging her to chase after it.

“You should do it too,” said Kaho. Kozue raised her head, and they were face to face. Kaho could smell the wine in Kozue’s breath. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, the adrenaline of standing before the edge of the world. “Make your own music. Kozue-senpai, you taught me what it means to have a dream. Let me…” Kaho licked her lips. “Let me help you remember.”

Kaho realised too late where her eyes had strayed, too slow for Kaho to not notice. Kozue stared at her in reverence, in wonder, the first person to step out of that cave allegory Haru had once explained to her, eyes bright and shining as they once had when Kaho stood before her holding a hand and a flower. This was it, Kaho thought, that rush she hadn’t felt in ages. A dream and a girl, a path and Kozue, her heart breaking her ribs and Kozue’s lips close, oh so close—

A glass fell on the ground. Neither moved away, yet their eyes snapped to where the noise came from. Yomi-kun sat beside them, the wine glass toppled on the ground. It hadn’t broken, and it had been too empty for anything to spill. They looked again at each other and laughed, Kozue’s head bowing from laughter until it almost touched Kaho’s thighs. Kaho held on, laughed and felt as if they’d taken a step forward.

Forward to where, she meant to ask. Forward somewhere, she supposed. You could always find your path if you never stopped walking forward.

The week passed and the celebratory evening came in the blink of an eye. They lived their days in peace, even if the aftermath of that night had left them both more at ease, Kozue’s body closer to hers when they woke up, her coffee tasting sweeter as Kozue made it and gave it with a smile. She’d agreed to come to the party, even if later due to a meeting she’d already planned a month ago. Kaho didn’t mind; better late than never.

She got ready at home as Kozue took the meeting, earbuds in and voice soft. Kaho put on her dress, a green number that Haru had bought her as a gift for the award. It reached mid-thigh, and the sleeves were long, sharing the same ruffles as the lower part of the dress did. The V-neckline would have been a bit too much, but Haru assured her that everyone was going all out for the event, and she would fit right in with the rest of them. The zipper, however, wasn’t agreeing, and Kaho hated to be the person that interrupted Kozue in the middle of a meeting, but Haru would pick her up soon and she didn’t want her to risk a fine for parking illegally for too long.

Kaho walked at the edge of the living room, close enough for Kozue to notice her but not enough to immediately interrupt her. Kozue, who was drinking a glass of water, hummed at the meeting as her eyes finally raised to meet Kaho’s.

And then she choked on the water. Loudly.

Kaho slapped a hand against her mouth to not giggle and saw as Kozue pathetically spoke out for a five-minute break, slamming the laptop shut as she continued coughing. When she reached Kaho, she was red on the face and her voice hoarse, eyes straying as if not knowing where to pause.

“I’ll take that as a yes on the dress?” asked Kaho, sly and mischievous.

“Um… Uh… I mean, yes. Absolutely.” Kozue swallowed, and her eyes softened. “You look beautiful, Kaho. Do a spin for me.”

Kaho spun around, her hand delicately held in Kozue’s as she did. Kozue hummed in appreciation and just as in a dance spun her around again, facing Kaho’s back. She brushed her hair away from her neck, shivered at the slight caress of Kozue’s knuckles against her back as she dragged the zipper up. Kaho knew she could be faster than that, and that the zipper worked just fine, but she kept quiet. Why complain about something that made her shiver this happily?

“There, done,” murmured Kozue. Her breath was closer than Kaho had expected, warm against the back of Kaho’s neck. Why was she that close? “Will Haru-san pick you up soon?”

Her hands had strayed down, holding onto Kaho’s elbows. Kaho swallowed, her throat dry.

“Yes, in a couple of minutes.”

“I see,” said Kozue. Neither moved. Kaho decided to bite the bullet and turn around, and clung harder to the heels in her hand. Kozue loomed over her; eyes focused with a sharpness that could only mean even Kozue herself had lost the plot. She was looking at Kaho, her breath warm against her face, hands sliding down to hers, grasping them loosely.

“You look very beautiful tonight,” whispered Kozue.

Kaho smiled, tense and relaxed, ready to jump at Kozue and away from her. Was this how rabbits felt before being devoured? That was silly. This was Kozue, her Kozue. Her Kozue who had the same look as she had in Shimoda but clearer, less afraid at the unknown pit in her stomach and able to handle it better.

“You did say that before, Kozue-senpai,” whispered Kaho. Why were they even whispering?!

“Mhm, I see.” Kozue leaned closer, and Kaho really was glad she’d used the lipstick that made her lips soft that night. But Kozue simply closed her eyes and sniffed, nose tickling her hair. “Is this the new perfume we bought the other day?” Kaho nodded. Kozue hummed, and when she pulled back, there was smug satisfaction in her face, so sincere that it made Kaho lose track of what she wanted to say. “It suits you. Everything does.”

Her cursed phone found that moment to ring. Kozue didn’t jump, but Kaho did, and she wondered when the roles had reversed, when Kozue could look at her with the satisfaction of a cat that’d caught the canary. She moved away towards the entrance, telling Haru she was coming down before closing the call. Kozue stood beside her, offering her forearm with ease for Kaho to lean against it as she put her heels on. She helped her with her jacket too, and then with her small bag.

They stood face to face, Kozue still in her casual clothes, Kaho looking so beautiful she felt beautiful.

“I’ll see you soon?”

Kozue nodded. “I will try to be quick. Enjoy your time until then.”

Kaho smiled and leaned up, never one to not want to get a one up against Kozue. But Kozue seemed to be prepared, a hand shooting up to hold her chin. Kaho froze, and Kozue shook her head, leaning down instead, her lips soft against Kaho’s cheek.

“Let’s not ruin your lipstick so soon, hm?”

Kaho stood there, frozen and gaping like a fish. Kozue only smiled a smile that would fit Megumi’s evil self more than it fit Kozue, but Kaho enjoyed the way she looked too much to care. Kozue retracted her hand and opened the door, ushering Kaho outside. She radiated far too much smugness to hide it, and Kaho both hated and loved it.

“See you soon, Kaho.”

Kaho waved and walked silently to the car, staring aimlessly at the street as Haru drove. Haru spoke, most likely compliments and plans and—

Wait.

What did Kozue mean by so soon? Why would Kaho need to ruin her lipstick later unless—

“Kaho?!”

Kaho only wailed, forehead hitting against the window. All the gods up there, if only they could help her get through the party in once piece.

As it turned out, the Gods did listen to her prayers. But as monkey’s paw would have it, it was Kozue that wouldn’t get through the party in one piece. It all began as most cursed things did: online.

The party was beautiful, and Haru had gone all out organising it. The venue held them between its wooden walls with golden details, with servers with ties and suits, all guests wearing fancy attire. It was one of Kaho’s first proper real adult events, and at twenty-seven, she felt all too young and too properly aged to be there. Haru stood beside her most of the time, dashing in a dark blue suit, hair slicked back and buttons open, lacking a tie. She introduced her to people Kaho hadn’t known, met with authors they both did, and Kaho felt the scope of her future widening. Perhaps Haru could help her with her idea, it’d make sense. Who said that there was a rule for not using your connections for reaching your dreams faster? Kaho knew the industry well enough to know how to navigate it, and Haru was always perfect at reaching the corners Kaho would forget or simply not think to look into.

When she reached the drinks table, she opened her phone, blinking at the hundreds of notifications from her secret BlueBird account. She let the phone load as she drank a glass of champagne, swallowing and staring mutely at the screen as it finally loaded.

megu_megu_wee: NO WAY KOZUE AND MEGUMI WERE SEEN IN PARIS??????? CLOSET IS GLASS, SOMEONE GET ME THAT MEGUMI LESBIAN FLAG PICTURE.

kozu_number1: Please stop assuming about things about this, they might have gone as friends. We cannot assume people’s sexualities this way especially someone like Kozue-sama whose music is much more important than these baseless rumours that aim to… [READ MORE]

streamloona4ever: people talking about assuming things like megumi didn’t do four songs with kozue as the only songwriter about loving someone you’re too afraid to and was seen coming out of her apartment at 5 am more than once like atp dispatch is believing in the truth more than these people

megururidelulu: wait isn’t megumi dating the childhood friend she posts on insta all the time????????

eatapotatoandgethigh: stream chuu’s kiss a kitty if you think they are dating

Oh. Kaho scrolled down, glass still in hand. Pictures of Megumi and Kozue taken from afar, Megumi holding unto Kozue’s arm, both walking beside the Louvre, Kozue and Megumi drinking something, Megumi dusting Kozue’s shirt off croissant crumbs. These were all in Paris, weren’t they? So, this was what they were doing while Kaho spent her time re listening to Kozue’s voice messages, as she continued living as if Kozue wasn’t clearly a walk away from her.

The people weren’t wrong. Kaho wasn’t blind. She drank the champagne in one gulp and reached for another glass, taking her time to thank the server who only stared at her as if she looked ready to do something drastic. There had been something between Megumi and Kozue. Kaho couldn’t bet on just what a thing it was, but it was something. Something that clearly half of Japan and half her mutuals saw.

“Hey, you okay?”

Haru appeared beside her, smiling. Kaho stared at her, and grabbed another glass, once again drinking it fully. Haru stopped her from grabbing a fourth. Kaho glared at her but didn’t reach for another, opting to stare at the room instead of at the woman beside her.

“Alright, definitely not. Why don’t you go for some fresh air? I spoke with the hotel, and the rooftop at this hour is reserved only for us. Go and stop looking like you’ll stab someone with a champagne glass.”

“Haru,” said Kaho, breathing deeply. “If Kozue-senpai comes, tell her where to find me. And if I’m not back in time for the speech, come find me.”

Kaho left with a nod and small smile, waving at those who would meet her eyes. The walk to the balcony wasn’t long, even if she had to take an elevator to get there. Haru had been correct, as she usually was. The balcony overlooked Paris in all its glory, brilliant and lively and Kaho felt slightly soothed. This was the city she fell for, the city that healed her heart and helped her find what she truly wanted. No matter what, she’d always have Paris. Even if now she had to share it with the people that thought Kozue and Megumi were dating.

God, dating. Kozue wouldn’t date her. Kaho was also very sure that Megumi and Ruri were dating and had been steady for a couple of years. Megumi wasn’t a two timer, was she? No, Megumi had morals. But did she have enough morals to not kiss a girl who clearly was single and tied to no one expect Kaho by a decade old promise that wasn’t even anything near something that would not allow Kozue to go and kiss someone else?

This was stupid. It was stupid. Her throat was warm from the alcohol, and her eyes fluttered when she heard movements. Kaho turned around, finding herself face to face with Kozue. Her Kozue, who stood tall and smiling. Her hair was half up, strands falling on her face. She blinked at the green tie, the same colour as her dress, clashing nicely with the rest of her oversized grey suit. Kozue was beautiful, and Kaho felt like kissing her as much as she felt like throwing her off the balcony.

“Haru-san told me the star of the evening was hiding here?”

“Seems like you found her,” replied Kaho. She smiled as Kozue took her spot beside Kaho, both leaning against the metallic railing. “What may she do for you?”

“Fufu, is this a genie-like situation?”

“Depends,” said Kaho, tongue loose and eyes glinting. “You’ve yet to touch me, Kozue-senpai.”

Kozue, impressively, did not react how Kaho expected her to. She raised her hand, thumb meeting the edge of Kaho’s lips, rubbing away something from the corner of her lips. When she pulled back, her thumb was glinting. Ah, lipstick.

“There. May I ask for my wishes now?”

“Go on,” murmured Kaho, feeling young and happy, Kozue’s eyes glinting in familiar playfulness. They knew how to be like this, close and warm, familiar and invasive with each other’s space. “What’s your first wish?”

“Hm… I want to know what Hinoshita Kaho wants tonight as a gift for her achievement.”

“Hm… For one, Hinoshita Kaho would like to tell you these wishes don’t count as wishes.”

“And I’d kindly remind her she never said they couldn’t.”

“And she kindly would like to repeat her previous point.”

“My, my, did her senpai teach her nothing about respecting your elders?”

Kaho giggled, unable to hold it back. Kozue smiled, victorious. “You’ll have to take it up with the senpai there. I’m a simple genie; that’s beyond my reach.”

“Alright then, I’ll concede. My first wish is to hug the star of the night.”

Kaho looked at Kozue in surprise. Kozue unbuttoned her jacket, arm open and waiting. Kaho, a simple genie, could do nothing but slide her hands underneath her jacket, wrapped in Kozue and her scent. Kozue’s arms made careful work to wrap around her without ruining her hair or her dress. It was soft, and for a moment she couldn’t hear the light music playing on the speakers of the rooftop but only Kozue’s heartbeat, harsh and steady against her ear.

Her phone buzzed against the table nearby, and Kaho’s lips fell. She held closer unto Kozue, who simply hummed and moved to lean her back against the railing, Kaho comfortable in her arms and standing between her legs.

“Does the previous wish still stand?” asked Kaho, voice soft. She felt more than heard Kozue hum in approval, and hoped Kozue wouldn’t pull away. “Did you and Megu-chan ever date?”

Kozue’s heartbeat quickened. Kaho was sure she ruined the moment. She made to pull away first, because if Kozue wouldn’t do it, then she had to, and found herself locked in Kozue’s embrace.

“Megumi is… someone important to me,” said Kozue. She spoke softly. “There was a time I considered her to be the first person I was… enthralled by. She still is. I can’t call what we did dating, but I suppose others can define it as such. Why do you ask?”

Kaho swallowed, envy bitter in her throat. Kozue loosened her hold, and she took that moment to release herself, hugging her arms, still standing between Kozue’s outstretched legs. She hadn’t expected Kozue to agree or say it that bluntly. She’d expected Kozue’s usual dancing around something, or even denial. Not… Not that.

“Dispatch released some Paris photos of you,” said Kaho, refusing to look at Kozue. “I know it… it means nothing. If anything, only because Megu-chan is happy with Ruri-chan. But I… I wanted to know the truth. I suppose my ideas weren’t far from it.”

“Megumi and I found comfort in each other during times we could not anywhere else.” Kaho could read between the lines. The years Ruri and Megumi were both trying to pave their own paths, that year they took a break. All the years that Kaho was simply a memory of times gone by. “I don’t regret the choices we made, that I made. There’s nothing between us now, but there used to be once.”

“Perfect,” muttered Kaho. “So, you’ll date Megumi and not—”

Both froze. The words weren’t spoken, but it was easy to understand where they would lead. Kozue coughed, and Kaho looked at her again. “I don’t wish to assume, but you must understand the feeling. You and Ginko, you two felt something similar, didn’t you?”

Kaho snorted, eyes wide. Had Kozue really cast that stone? That specific, do-not-mention stone they both refused to ever cast?

“Are- Kozue-senpai, are you serious?”

“I apologize for being forward, but I’m aware of the bond between a senpai and the junior they saw bloom before their eyes. Megumi and I were two people whose dreams aligned but soon found our own, different ways of chasing our dreams. You and Ginko… we had something similar, did we not? I suppose it isn’t that far-fetched to suppose things.”

Kaho refused to look away. Kozue seemed to think the same, looking with that same steady gaze, unflinching. So that was it, thought Kaho. Kozue placing her and Ginko in the same category. A junior to be loved, cared for and to share something special with. Nothing more. Nothing else.

Maybe it was the alcohol in her veins. Maybe it was the months old tension in her bones. Maybe it was the fact that Kaho often threw herself and her words before she thought them. Whatever it was, it made Kaho smile softly and reach out, her hand coming to Kozue’s tie, playing with it.

“Kozue-senpai, we both know well it’s not the same with Ginko-chan and I as it was between us.” The tie was soft against her fingers, softer around her fist as she wrapped it around it, tugging lightly. “I didn’t do what we did in Shimoda with Ginko-chan, did I?”

Kaho saw the visible swallowing Kozue did. She could almost feel her heartbeat, almost hear it.

“I’d be unaware if that was the case.”

“Think again.”

“I mean, you haven’t said—”

“Did you do the same with Megumi, then? Is that it? Absolving us of guilt for something we both did?”

Kozue was speechless. Kaho liked that look on her, liked Kozue pliant and nervous, so far from the dashing senpai she always acted as. It made her feel as if she wasn’t just someone that Kozue could one day decide to leave, that could simply be left behind. It made her feel as if she had power in her hand too, as if she could almost believe the words Kozue shared with her that night a week ago.

“Did you do the same with Megumi too?” asked Kaho, voice low. “Did you lie that day simply to make me smile? That you’d really planned to take her there instead of me. Or did you do it before? Is that it?”

“Kaho—”

“Or did you come to Paris before and kissed her like you won’t kiss me?”

Let there be the one who is free of sin to cast the first stone. Kozue clearly wasn’t, and she still cast it. Kaho was a good dancer, would follow suit with her own stone, just as in a dance. Step for step. She refused to not go along with Kozue’s steps.

“Kaho…”

Kaho wrapped the tie tighter and used her fist to push Kozue closer against the railing. Kozue scrambled, and it would be cute if Kaho wasn’t seething from ten thousand emotions. Kozue’s hands sprawled on the metal, and she looked at Kaho as if she was the taller one, the bigger one, the one who could crumble Kozue to dust.

“When was the last time you kissed Megumi, Kozue-senpai?”

Kozue must have seen something in her eyes, because Kaho saw her walls crumble as easily as the stars shining above them. Kozue was not the same Kozue of months ago. This was a Kozue who was willing to share the truth, the truth Kaho asked for and not one twisted from her well-meaning wishes.

“The night of the hotel,” whispered Kozue. “After I saw you reach your room, I went to her. That’s it.”

“I see,” said Kaho. She looked at her hand, fist tight around the tie, knuckles feeling the harshness of Kozue’s heartbeat, as if she was being chased instead of simply talking to Kaho. “Okay.”

She looked up. Kozue was looking at her, acceptance reflected in her face. She knew on what edge they were standing on, that it was up to Kaho to decide whether they would fall off or not. But hadn’t that been how it always was for them? Kozue dangling something, Kaho taking a bite. It made Kaho pull away, tie loosening and falling limp against Kozue’s chest.

Kaho stepped back, and Kozue continued looking at her. Had Kaho had a similar look in her face earlier when Kozue mentioned Ginko? Kaho smiled and turned around, trying to calm her heartbeat. It was going to be okay; it was going to be okay—

A hand shot out to grasp her wrist. Kaho was spun around, and a hand met her cheek, pulling her in. Kozue was kissing her, hand heavy against her cheek, hand tight against her wrist. Kozue was holding her and kissing her desperately, releasing a moan deep from within her throat even if all they were doing was holding their lips against each other.

It was Kozue who pulled back first, both hands moving to hold Kaho’s cheeks, eyes bright and erratic, desperate.

“I don’t…” Kozue swallowed, licked her lips, glinting in Kaho’s lipstick. “I don’t know how to do this. I know it’s unbecoming of me as your senpai, but I can’t help myself. Kaho, you must know. You need to know. The emotions you bloom within me.”

Kaho felt as if it was the first time she’d ever seen Kozue. It hadn’t been like this in Shimoda, nor that night after Bloom Garden, nor when they reunited in Paris. Sure, Kozue had felt desperate, warm under her hands as they kissed for that very first time. But she’d been tense, kissing as if she was eating something she’d stolen. This Kozue was bright in her sincerity despite the darkness of the balcony, desperate to be truly seen for what she was feeling, so much like the Kozue that Kaho truly fell in love with when she saw her at her lowest and still wanted her.

It’s barely a moment. Most decisions are often taken in that millisecond before the decision itself is spoken out loud.

“Kaho, I lo—”

Kaho wrapped her hand around the tie again and pushed herself to meet Kozue’s lips. Kozue groaned, words stolen away. They kept kissing, this time lips moving, wet and distracted, teeth knocking against each other. Kozue was pushed against the railing, almost sitting in it. Kaho could feel her everywhere, her lips reaching out even as Kaho pulled away to breathe.

Kozue was warm underneath her hands. Kaho gripped her shoulders, then her forearms, then her hands slid to grip at her shoulders again, holding her against the railing as much as holding unto her. It was her who advanced the kiss, tilting her head deeper and tongue poking between her lips. Kozue groaned pathetically against her, her own lips open and willing, her hands almost digging a hole in Kaho’s hips, holding as one did when learning to swim. Had it been the time spent without kissing that made this time much, much sweeter?

Kozue wrapped a clothed leg wrap around hers, and Kozue’s hands slid behind her back, elbows in her shoulders pulling Kaho closer. They were chest to chest, unable to stop, unable to do much but moan and groan and kiss each other clumsily and greedily, most likely making a mess that’d take a sweet time in the bathroom to fix. But Kozue was warm, willing in ways she never had been before, greedy for her touch and lips and the taste that was inherently Kaho the same way Kaho tried licking her way into Kozue’s mouth, as if trying to make her way in her heart from the mouth.

It was good, too good, and Kaho was sure she’d die and still remember the way Kozue muttered her name in the slight moments Kaho would take to breathe, repeating it like a mantra. They couldn’t stop, an avalanche that Kaho was willing to bear for as long as she could—

“Kaho- oh shit!”

They jumped apart. Kaho turned around, eyes wide and mouth still hanging open. Haru stood in the middle of the rooftop, hand slapped against her mouth. Beside her, Kozue looked dazed, brought to earth from another universe.

“It’s uh, award time in ten- We can take a moment. I’m going to go—”

“No, no, it’s okay—”

“My apologies—”

They all fell into silence. Haru turned around slowly, as if held at gunpoint. Kaho looked at Kozue, whose eyes were dark and lips red and oh god, she was covered in lipstick. Her head was burning, drunk on something far more dangerous than alcohol. She raised her hand, touching her lips and coming away with glitter and lipstick. Perfect. This was—

“Here,” murmured Kozue, reaching out with a handkerchief. Kaho took it, nodding silently with a small smile. “You can go with Haru-san to tidy up. I’ll uh—" Kozue coughed. “I’ll take a moment here.”

“Alright,” said Kaho. She breathed deeply, in and out, and walked to where she’d placed her bag and took it. “Alright. Haru, let’s go. We still have ten until award, yes?”

“Huh? Ah, yes! Yes. Let’s go, I can take us to the bathroom without meeting others.”

Kaho walked forward, her mind empty and body reacting on orders that probably came from the part of her brain that humans usually didn’t have activated. She stepped away from Kozue, reaching the door of the rooftop—

“Kaho!” She turned around. Kozue was leaning against the railing, looking like a model despite her mussed-up shirt and jacket. She was smiling, shy and sharp, a hand to her mouth.

“We can consider that my second wish,” said Kozue. Kaho stared at her, mouth falling open. Haru coughed to hide her laughter. The audacity of this woman—

Kaho only grabbed Haru’s wrist and exited the balcony, red to the tips of her ears. After they’d taken enough steps away, Haru began laughing loudly, taking the lead to take them to the bathroom, the elevator still waiting for them.

When they reached the bathroom, she gripped the sink counter as if it was the only thing keeping her up. She’d gripped Kozue’s hips the same way, hadn’t she? Kaho stared at the mirror, eyes wide and pupils dilated, face red and lipstick smudged to the degree that she needed to clean half of her face and reapply it again. God, months living with Kozue and being normal and all it took was one moment alone in a context where they were speaking of the elephant in the room to jump at each other. And Kozue had nearly said she lo—

“Alright, let me handle this,” said Haru. Kaho hummed, allowed herself to be pulled and pushed, half seating against the sink. Haru was gentle with her touch, wiping away with the make-up wipes Kaho had kept in her bag, equally gentle in reapplying some light foundation.

“So…”

“Haru…”

“I suppose I should have realised miss producer would give herself as a gift—”

“Haru! Oh my god, it’s not like that—”

Haru chuckled, tilting her chin in a way that made Kaho unable to speak. She popped the lipstick open with one hand, applying it carefully. Her face radiated a comforting amusement that did its job in allowing Kaho to relax.

“My bad, because it really did look like you were nearly going to eat that poor girl whole in that balcony—”

“I wasn’t—”

“And that joke at the end! Goodness, the way you blushed from it! Kaho, now you’re making me wonder for who I’m more jealous for.”

Haru met her eyes, and it took only a second before Kaho giggled. Oh god, she’d really kissed Kozue in a balcony in Paris like that, hadn’t she? And Kozue had clearly been into it. And they’d gotten caught like school children sneaking out. They hadn’t even been caught back when they did do that, let alone now. Kaho turned her head, and saw herself looking as if nothing had happened, normal expect her still red cheeks and shining eyes.

“I… Let’s just go. Thank you for coming to pick me up.”

“Always, dear team captain! I’m at least glad I thought of giving you a good ten minutes before award. You’ve got five left to prepare for the speech.”

Kaho looked down. Kozue’s handkerchief had remained in her hand, unused and clenched in her fist. Kaho caressed it with her thumb as they began going towards their table. It was going to be alright. Surely it would be. She wasn’t the same starry-eyed Kaho who clung to each word Kozue said, or so she hoped. Kozue seemed more honest, more open, enough to do something as scary as to say those words. It was going to be—

Kozue was sitting by the chair next to Kaho when they reached the table. Haru nodded politely, and Kozue nodded back. Kaho made to sit on the chair, smiling when Kozue pulled it back with one arm, pushing it as she sat. They remained sitting side by side, Kaho trying to remember her speech—

“You got this,” murmured Kozue, voice low as the lights dimmed and Haru half ran to the podium, everyone clapping as she waved with a smile. “I’m proud of you.”

Kaho looked at her, and did so until a light shone on her, everyone clapping louder. Kozue was smiling brightly, unafraid and sincere, proud as if she’d been the one to win this award. Kaho smiled and stood up as people continued clapping, laying a kiss against the top of Kozue’s head. Kozue reached out, grasping her hand for a quick moment before letting her go, continuing to clap as Kaho walked to the front.

She and Haru hugged, and she laughed at the statue in her hand. Had they really made an Oscar statue with a traditional kimono? Kaho turned around to the podium and found herself speechless. The room was full, filled with coworkers and investors and authors, most she knew, some she didn’t. In the middle of them all sat Kozue, and even if Kaho couldn’t tell her face well, she knew she was smiling at her.

“Good evening, everyone,” she began. “Thank you all for gathering here tonight, and for all your work which has made our mission possible. Our publishing house would be unable to share with the rest of the world all the amazing works we have were it not for our dear authors and all those that worked behind the scenes to put those works out. A special thank you goes to our translators, of course! And I suppose a thank you goes to me too, seeing as I’m given this award tonight.” People laughed, and Kaho loosened up, smiling in relief. “I started working here by a whim, yet I found something precious with each manuscript I helped edit and later even helped publish. Thank you for this opportunity, and for rewarding what some may call my hard work, but I simply consider something I loved doing.”

Some clapped. Kaho awaited until silence fell again and swallowed. This was supposed to be the part where she thanked someone, or said something emotional, wasn’t it? She could do this. Kaho had enough training of holding speeches as idol club president, even if most of those speeches were laced with the emotional thrill of being young and chasing a dream with all you had. Now she’d have to find that Kaho again and let her meet the Kaho who paid taxes and lead a team of editors and translators.

“A dream is not always something that we find, sometimes it’s something that finds us,” said Kaho. Her throat felt dry, her heart beat out of her chest, yet hope filled her chest in a way it hadn’t in years. “Either way, however you grasp it, don’t let it go to waste.” She looked towards Kozue, and her voice steadied. “A special someone once told me that even if you’re afraid, you should not shy away from fear. Be scared but chase your dreams scared. No matter what, clinging to your dream selfishly is the only way to get any closer to achieving it. Only we can make our dreams come true. No one else can do it for us.” Kaho smiled, bright and soft, a secret shared between two people. “Being here has given me the chance to find this new dream of mine. I’m sure that this award will only ignite the fire in me and help me remember why I love doing what I do. Why not, maybe in the future I’ll be on the opposite side of an editor’s table too, and I might love that side the same way.”

A whistle rang around the room, Haru most likely, and people began to clap. Kaho grinned. “I’m sorry for such a long speech but thank you for this award! I hope we can continue to enjoy the rest of the night!”

She left the podium the same way she’d stepped into it, between applause and smiles. Some had begun to stand up from their tables, reaching her with hands ready to shake and praise. It made Kaho feel as if she were ready to fly, ready to grasp the world in her hand. She was, most likely. Ready to grasp the world, ready to chase this new dream.

At the end of the long list of people shaking her hand remained Kozue, looking like the proper Otomune heir that she most likely looked like during family events or on her recitals. Kaho smiled when she met her eyes, unable to stop herself from lightning up at the sight of Kozue. When they stood face to face, Kozue simply stared, shining in pride.

“Other side of the table, hm?”

Kaho smiled, head tilted innocently. “Why not? A certain someone told me I should go for it.”

Kozue laughed, fond, and reached out to move some stray hair from her shoulder, fingers grazing at the expanse of collarbones just so slightly. Kaho didn’t look away from her eyes, and Kozue returned the favour.

“I do have one wish left, don’t I?” Kaho nodded, smile turning soft when Kozue left out her hand between them. “Let’s go somewhere after this event is over. I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“Something I’ve been working on for you. Or rather, a part of it. What do you say?”

“Senpai, when would I ever say no to such a request?”

“Fufu, then allow me to be selfish after. For now, there are a lot of people waiting to have a piece of your brilliance focused on them even for a moment.” Kozue took a step to the side, hand outstretched to the rest of the room. “Why don’t you do your rounds? I’ll be hanging around.”

Kaho smiled, took a step closer, pierced through the distance with an arm laced around Kozue’s. “Keep me company, won’t you? There’s a reason you’re my plus one tonight.”

“Consider me yours for the evening then,” said Kozue, fond and warm and everything Kaho could ever want in someone. All she could do to handle the emotions overcoming her was to drag Kozue to the rest of the people, to smile and laugh and shake hands with Kozue’s hand slipping to rest against the small of her back. And that was enough.

The night was alive, even if it was quite late. Haru had dropped them off at the Jardin Tuileries, at Kozue’s request, as both were tipsy enough to not want to drive home. They stood side by side, enjoying the lights of the market in silence, eyes slightly glazed from the coldness of the air and the previous warmth of the car. Such a beautiful view, such a magical atmosphere. Kaho fell in love all over again with the world around her.

“Are you in the mood to walk through the market?”

“I…” It was beautiful, and Kaho would have loved to were it to be any other day. She hesitated. The warmth of the evening she’d had was still ever so present in her heart, and it was a warmth she didn’t want to be distracted by, a warmth she wanted to enjoy for as long as she could. Besides… “Not really, actually. Say, senpai, what was the surprise you wanted to show me?”

Kozue raised her wrist, looking at the time. “Actually, I think we’re right on time. We’ll have to walk for a bit to Pont Royal.”

“Eh? By the river?”

“Indeed,” said Kozue. She raised her elbow, her hold on Kaho’s wrist gentle as she looped their arms together. “Right by the river.”

“What kind of surprise involves a river?” Kozue looked forward, walking slowly, her hand still around Kaho’s forearm, warm and grounding. “Hm… a boat?”

Kozue’s smile widened, but she still didn’t say anything. Kaho gasped. “A boat?!”

“Fufu, be good and wait until we get there.”

She didn’t have to wait long. It was, in fact, a boat. A relatively empty one, different from the usual tourist ones, which surprised her. Usually the boats would be full, especially the special ones with people trying to enjoy the evening views. Though, this boat was fancier than those, and when Kozue helped her in it, all Kaho came across were servers wearing suits and smiling politely.

All questions died in her throat when they reached the top of the boat. It was a starry night, something that made Kaho appreciate the beauty of Paris more than the usual cloudy evenings. The boat swam slowly and steadily, the Eiffel tower in the horizon flashing its lights. Kozue stood beside her in silence, taking in the view the same way she was, the wind gently blowing and cooling their heated cheeks.

“Kaho, could you sit down for a bit?”

“Sure?” Kozue smiled at her response, pulling out a chair from a nearby candle-lit table. Kaho sat down, and her mouth fell open when one of the servers came with a guitar in hand, handing it to Kozue with a smile and nod. After he left, they remained alone, and Kaho finally accepted her previous suspicions were, in fact, the truth.

“We’re the only ones here, aren’t we?”

“Nothing can escape you, can it?” Kozue was smiling, shy as she fiddled with the guitar strings, throwing its rope around her shoulders. Even with the Eiffel tower shining behind her, all Kaho could look at was her face. “Indeed. Easier than I expected, and worth it. I…” Kozue sat down on a similar chair, the guitar comfortable in her lap. “I was thinking, this past month. What would be a good gift for you? I didn’t want to buy you anything, and I was sure you would rather have something made by me especially for you. So… a song was the best choice. It’s only part of a bigger gift, but it felt fitting, considering your award tonight.”

“Kozue-senpai…”

“I’m grateful for you, Kaho,” said Kozue. Her voice was tender. The city was alive, yet all Kaho cared for was the girl before her. “More than words can ever express. Tomorrow you might understand that better, but for now, allow my music to convey the feelings my words now can’t. Or, well, the cover of a song that you really enjoy.”

“A special Kozue-senpai performance?” Kaho giggled, hands held before her mouth, digging her fingers under eyes to try not to cry. “Really?”

“It’s the least I can do for you,” replied Kozue. Her smile shone brighter than the lights in the city of lights. “Sit there and enjoy yourself. This performance is for your eyes only.”

After the first few notes, Kaho immediately recognised the song. It’d been her favourite for some time, even if it was an older one. Kozue sang the Japanese version of the song, and despite it being a boy group song, her vocals made the song flow as if it was made for her. Kozue’s guitar made it even more romantic, turning the exciting vibe into something softer, tender and as an arrow through Kaho’s heart. Kaho was sure that Boynextdoor had not meant for their song If I say, I love you to sound this tender. It’d been years since she’d properly heard Kozue sing, something more than just the song drafts she’d overhear from Megumi’s phone when she was preparing her album. Her voice had matured into something deeper, so similar yet better than the one Kaho had once sang with. As she sang, her eyes met Kaho’s frequently, looking away with a shy smile despite the steadiness in her voice.

Kaho cried, because she didn’t want to hold back anymore. She had a better grasp of her dream, she’d had a lovely night surrounded by people that respected her and her work, and she sat in a boat on the Seine serenaded by the person she’d loved ever since the first time she learned what that emotion entailed. When had she ever thought, deep down, that this could be possible? That she could have her brilliant dream and Kozue with it. That she could have a dream of her own, one that was fully hers and that she wasn’t afraid to chase. They all had been things she’d believed but not in the way she believed in them now, in the way she felt them now.

Kozue was speaking after she finished singing, something about how she hoped Kaho loved the song, as she took the guitar off and placed it by the chair she was sitting on. Kaho stood up, too, and remained frozen the way a gazelle is before jumping for the kill. She couldn’t hear Kozue, as if swimming underwater, but she had never looked so clearer to Kaho, so close and so perfect and beautiful.

“Kaho?”

The Eiffel tower shone brightly ahead of them. She could hear the waves as the boat pushed through. The town was still alive. Everything was so alive and bright. Kaho reached out and grasped for the star she felt she could now reach, a star that once led her like a compass and with which she could proudly shine beside. Kozue did not make a sound, her cheeks cold in Kaho’s hold, her lips even colder against Kaho’s. Kaho kissed her gently, slowly, a press of lips against each other. Kozue warmed underneath her touch, held Kaho close by two gentle hands against her elbows.

She pulled away first, still holding onto her cheeks. Kozue’s eyes fluttered open, focusing onto Kaho’s. There were specs of blue in the forest of her eyes, the way they always shone whenever Kozue was happy. It made no sense, yet Kaho knew it happened. With the warm lighting from the candles and fairy lights hanging around them, Kozue felt more like a painting than human. Despite that, she’d never felt more human to Kaho, warmer or closer to the heart.

“Kaho…?”

Kaho was happy she’d worn heels that evening. Kozue’s lips were closer, easier to reach. There was no fire in their kiss like on the balcony hours before. It was a simple press of lips. Somehow, just the easiness of the kiss, the way in which Kozue kissed her back, it burned her more than any other kiss ever could. Even if alone from the rest of the world, huddled for warmth chest to chest, Kaho had never felt less like a secret. There wasn’t a fear of forgetting all this the next day, nor the finality that Shimoda had made her feel. They were just two girls who once shared a dream and now were happy to be parallel lines that ran along each other for eternity.

They kept kissing. At one point, Kaho was sure it was more for the warmth it gave them against the cold night than anything. Her hands slid underneath Kozue’s coat, at the space between shoulder and cloth. Kozue’s had mirrored hers earlier, resting on the sides of her neck. When Kaho pulled back for longer than a second or two, she realised they’d already reached the Eiffel tower. Kozue turned her head at the same time, and both stood there, holding each other, staring at the dazzling tower in silence.

“Ah,” said Kaho. She looked at Kozue, who met her eyes with ease. “It’s so dazzling, isn’t it?”

Kozue nodded, smiling widely. “I think I’m holding something more dazzling that that in my hands now.”

“Kozue-senpai…”

Kozue pressed her cheeks together, in a similar fashion that Kaho had once. “I refuse to bow down for this. Forgive me for my selfishness.”

“Kojue-senpwai…”

“Kaho,” murmured Kozue. “Thank you for letting me experience tonight by your side. I’m honoured that I spent these months getting to see into what beautiful person you’ve grown. After what happened in Shimoda… I’m happy you gave me another chance.”

With her hold on her cheeks loosened, Kaho could speak freely. Even so, she pulled her hands away, raising them against Kozue’s on her face. They were slightly cold from the weather, but Kaho felt only warmth radiate from them.

“It was… I couldn’t believe it at first,” murmured Kaho. Kozue didn’t look away. “That we could reach this point. But we did. I’m… All chances we had to take were worth it they got us to this point. You were right, back then, as much as I hate to admit it.”

“Perhaps we could have gotten here without the pain we’ve experienced, but even that pain is precious to me now.”

Kaho smiled, closed her eyes. With Kozue so close, her warmth against her body, she did not need to see. The sun was there, so she could allow herself to be held by it in the darkness. The warmth would still be there for her.

The apartment was cool from the windows they’d left open. Kozue helped her take off her heels, stood there as Kaho leaned against her. Their movements were slow, familiar the same way dance routines used to be. Kaho allowed Kozue to slid down the zipper of the dress, lowering the sleeves of her dress before allowing her to undress in the bedroom. When she came back out, dressed in warm clothes, Kozue had made them warm tea, the mugs steaming. Their hands brushed as Kozue passed her by, taking her time in the bedroom.

When they reunited in the kitchen, both drank their tea standing. Words felt useless, the silence more than enough for the two of them. Kozue would often meet her eyes, share a smile, look away still smiling. Kaho replied to messages sent to her that she hadn’t replied to through the day. When all was said and done, she placed the phone down. Kozue took their empty mugs, washed them as Kaho went to the bathroom. She joined after a few minutes, grabbing her toothbrush, brushing her teeth beside Kaho. Their reflections felt similar to the one ages ago, back in a time when they could only have this moment when they could coordinate their shower times, or when Kaho could sneak in Kozue’s bedroom and spend some time there before bedtime. Now they were older, more tired but happier, eyes meeting in the mirror. Despite everything, it was still them.

Kaho made the bed. Kozue placed their water by the nightstand. She slid in first, then Kaho followed. Both laid on their sides, staring at each other in the darkness of the room. Kaho had grown out of needing too much light on to sleep, and Kozue often preferred to have a small light on. They settled on a cute lamp in the shape of a bunny, a warm light that would be enough for Kozue to navigate her way through the room after waking early, or for Kaho to not trip when she’d get up for the bathroom half asleep. It helped now, especially, to see Kozue’s profile easier, to make the room equally warm as the night they’d had.

“Kozue-senpai, you said the song was only a part of your gift, right?”

“The rest comes tomorrow, yes.”

“Tomorrow? That soon?”

“Did you know?” Kozue’s smile turned fond. “Tomorrow is the anniversary of our promise.”

“Eh? Our… promise?”

“Tomorrow, almost ten years ago, you promised you’d help me win Love Live,” said Kozue. Kaho blinked, frozen in surprise. “At what was the lowest point in my life, you saw someone worth believing and putting your trust into. I didn’t even believe in myself, yet it was the earnest brightness in your eyes that made me believe that I could achieve my dream if I tried again. That day… It felt fitting to do what I will tomorrow.”

“Does this have anything to do with our conversation a week ago?”

“Fufu, perhaps.”

“And with all those nights you snuck off bed to the living room and pretended like you didn’t?”

“You were supposed to be asleep…”

Kaho giggled. Her hand found Kozue’s between them, fingers lacing loosely. She could read between the lines, perhaps even better than she thought she did. But she was willing to keep silent for now. If anything, just to allow herself to fully enjoy something that meant this much to Kozue.

“Thank you.” Kaho tightened the hold on her hand. Warm hands, capable hands. The hands that Kaho loved so much. “I’m sure it’ll be one of the most special things in my life. I’ll always treasure anything you give me.”

“I’m glad then,” replied Kozue. She closed her eyes, smiling. “I can’t wait to hear what you think of it. It might be my dream, but it was you who gave me the push to get here. Sleep well, Kaho.”

“Sleep well, senpai.” Kaho pulled their hands closer. Her lips rested against Kozue’s hand, her eyes taking in the red blush that slowly bloomed on her cheeks. “Sweet dreams.”

Kaho did not even need to wish for sweet dreams, nor Kozue of a good sleep. When reality was already so sweet, how could dreams ever turn better?

The bed was cold. Kaho was sure that’s what woke her up. Kozue wasn’t there, and Kaho could hear her voice from the open window of the bedroom. She followed the sound, her steps silent and small as she reached the edge of the bedroom door. Kozue was on the phone by the open French doors in the living room, coat thrown over her shoulders. Kaho rubbed her eyes, and knew she wasn’t imagining the thin trail of smoke coming from her hand.

She stepped closer, enough to not be heard, hidden in the shadows. If she focused, she could hear Kozue’s voice with ease.

“I know that I need to be there,” murmured Kozue. With the deepness of her voice, Kaho could guess she was talking to Megumi. There was a tone of intimacy in Kozue’s voice whenever they spoke together that was distinct in its way, unlike any other tone. “Look, we just had a good night. I want to enjoy it.”

Kaho froze. Were they talking about her and Kozue?

Megumi replied something on the other side of the phone. Kaho could not hear her. Kozue sighed. “Yes, Megumi, I know this is a big step for my career. I was the one that helped you with your first album, as you may recall… I was your producer, I know well how an album is made and what it needs… What do you mean I’m behaving irrationally?!” Kaho swallowed, fear taking root in her heart. “I… I know, I know. It’s a choice I’m making after thinking it carefully. I can come by for some days for promotions, but that’s it… I know that… I won’t budge.”

She’d been correct. Kozue had made an album. Kaho remembered how busy Megumi had been during her first album. Kozue had spent all her days working silently beside Kaho, picking her up from work, cooking and living idly by Kaho’s side. Even Kaho, who was not in the industry, knew how irresponsible that had been. This was Kozue’s dream, the dream that Kozue wanted to burn for the same way Kaho wanted to burn for hers. And all Kaho had done was hold her back.

“I know Kaho would understand,” replied Kozue. She seemed tired. Had she held all this sadness within her, and not allowed Kaho to be there for her? All along she stood tall and smiling, made Kaho feel like a princess out of a fairytale, while feeling these worries. “I just… I’m selfish. I want to be with her even for a bit more like this. I feel like we’re finally getting over what happened at Shimoda… I’m right to worry, okay? It’s an album, I’ll make more music, I can afford to take it easier- Megumi.” Kozue’s voice sharpened. “I’ve decided already. I do regret not being there for this, but I’d regret more not being by Kaho’s side for now.”

Kaho pulled away. Pandora’s box had opened, and had left behind despair instead of hope. She moved without thinking, laid on the bed and waited. Kozue came again soon, and once again, did not notice her awake. Kaho remained awake even as Kozue’s breathing slowed down, as she fell asleep.

Once, she’d hated Kozue. Just for a short moment, hated that she’d refused to ask Kaho to stay, hated that she wouldn’t even pretend to do so. Laying there, side by side, she hated her more. Laying there, Kaho hated Kozue because she understood her in a way she never had before. If Kozue wouldn’t do what was best for her, then Kaho had to.

Sleep took her without her permission, and she slept a dreamless sleep.

When she woke up, Kozue was already awake. The bed was still warm, so she hadn’t been awake for long. Kaho sat up and her heart weighted her down more than the tiredness of her body did. Could she really do this? Surely she could change something, surely she could simply ignore hearing what she’d heard-

That was silly. They were both adults. They were at that age where decisions had to be taken. Sure, there was no time limit to chasing your dreams. Sure, they could have fun until they died. But at the end of the day, Kaho was Kaho. Her family would worry and talk circles around her future, but they were used to Kaho’s dancing around their wishes for her life. Kozue was an Otomune, and Kaho understood there were different things expected from her. She couldn’t simply slack off her biggest project just because Kaho wanted them to have fun together. If even Megumi agreed with her—

But most of all, Kaho couldn’t allow Kozue to put her before her dream. They’d opened their hearts raw to each other, shared just how lost they’d felt. Kozue herself had told her, that night by the living room, through the tapes, just how lost she’d felt even as she’d walked on. How could Kaho allow her to stay? How could Kaho ever love Kozue more than she loved her happy and chasing after her dream? Perhaps this was their destiny. Kaho was willing to accept it, as long as she knew it was for the best. Her heart would tear into pieces, but they’d all be pieces whose tears would be happy, for their pain had a reason as important as Kozue’s brilliance being safe.

When she reached the kitchen, Kozue was making breakfast, or on the process of getting everything ready for it. She was smiling, humming underneath her breath, as if the conversation last night hadn’t happened, as if Kaho had dreamt her call. A cold grip clenched around her heart. Was it truly that easy for Kozue to not tell her things, to be worried for something as important as the future of her dream and not share it with Kaho? Did Kozue really use Kaho’s heartfelt promise to be there for her to wipe her a—

“Kaho, good morning!” Kozue’s smile widened as Kaho approached closer. Kaho blinked when she leaned in, laid a kiss on her cheek before moving to the kitchen counter again. Kaho sat by her chair, staring blankly at Kozue. “I was preparing things for breakfast. I saw we had some tomato sauce left, so we could do that recipe we saw the other day with eggs. I could use the remaining peppers too and we can it that to the grocery list after.”

“Yeah,” murmured Kaho. Was this how Noah felt when he’d tell people that only some could be saved, and others would be left to drown?

Kozue hadn’t noticed yet, and Kaho recognised in horror why: she was happy. Nervous as she’d been that first day in Shimoda but happy, excited to do things with Kaho. Was she hopeful after last night? But the phone call? What about it? Would she be happy just continuing this fantasy until… Until when? Until she’d refuse to feel resentment for Kaho whose existence made her put her dream aside? She felt as if Kozue was a reflection of herself in Shimoda, all too happy to live in a fantasy as long as it made her smile.

“You’re not in work today, right? We can go grocery shopping later, make a half-day out of it too. There was this promotion at your favourite bakery, I saw when I went for a run yesterday.” Was Kaho insane? Was that it? Was this normal and she was hallucinating? “I know you love their macaroons, so we can get some too—"

“Don’t you think it’s about time you returned to Tokyo?”

Kozue froze, in the middle of opening the box of cheese. She raised her head slowly, and her eyes met Kaho’s. Her hands and feet felt cold, more than usual, but her insides were burning and churning as if she’d drank too much caffeine.

“What?” murmured Kozue. She shook her head, and smiled, albeit confused. “I… I mean, I thought—”

“What did you think, Kozue-senpai?” Kaho hated how tired she sounded. She’d much prefer anger, or annoyance, or literally anything else. Tiredness was depressing, tiredness made her feel like she and Kozue were in a failed marriage both refused to break due to the comfort they found in its monotony. “That you could stay here in Paris with me forever?”

“I…” Kozue placed down the lid, hands resting against the box. “I didn’t… think that far ahead.”

“I’m considering Paris for a longer time,” said Kaho. Where had that even come from? She just decided last night to truly work on her first piece of work, so this was— “My initial period of a year ends next April, and it’s December now. I was thinking of discussing it with Haru in January.”

“That’s amazing, isn’t it?” Kozue looked lost, and it made Kaho hate herself. God, how easy had it been for Kozue to break her heart in Shimoda? Wasn’t that proof that they stood on different places? Kozue was Kaho’s heart, and Kaho was for Kozue a beautiful dream that one day would come to end, someone to care for until real life knocked on the door and Kozue left with a wave and noble intentions in mind. “I… What does that have to—"

“I think it’d be best for us to not… do this anymore.”

“This…?”

Kaho closed her eyes, digging her hand in her forehead and thumb and forefinger in her eyes. “This isn’t… This is Shimoda all over again, Kozue-senpai. You come to me out of nowhere, tell me you want to try again and then we ignore everything for months. It’s not… I’m not that Kaho anymore. We both have talked too much to make those same mistakes again.”

“I’ve… I don’t think I’m making a mistake. Being here with you.” Kozue’s voice wavered, even if she spoke each word with conviction. “Kaho, I meant what I told you in the tape, that night when I first came here too. I wanted us to start at a new page, at… at being honest and—”

“Honest?” Kaho sighed, looked up. Kozue was gripping the counter, eyes fearful. “Alright. Why was it easier for you to keep leaving me instead of telling me you were scared of hurting me?”

“I never left you—”

“You did! And the fact you refuse to admit that makes this hurt more than it should!” Kaho felt her throat burn, and her eyes refused to cry. Kozue flinched, looking away. Ashamed. “You will say it in all the other words you know but those. You left me, Kozue-senpai. You left me the day you decided you knew better for me than I did. Right or not, it still hurt.”

“Kaho, I only meant to do what’s best—”

“I love you.” Both froze. God, this really was Shimoda all over again. “I loved you. In Hasunosora. When I was chasing the unknown around Japan. When you lied and never told me we met at the hotel that night. Those years we barely spoke. In Shimoda when I left you, and yes, I can admit I did. In Paris before you came and even—” Kaho swallowed. “Even now.”

Kozue met her eyes, and Kaho could already see in them the tears that were lacking in hers.

“I love you, Kozue-senpai. And I loved you when you left me. Every time. I loved you when I promised to be there by your side and when you refused to let me be there each time. I thought… I thought for a moment, that perhaps this time could be different. I mean that. I really, desperately hoped that. I believed it when I saw you that night at Pont Neuf. But thing is, I can love you and it still won’t change anything. Even if you say it will, even if you say—”

“I lo—”

“Don’t.” Kozue’s words stuck in her mouth, mouth still hanging open. Kaho shook her head. “Don’t. Just… please. Please, Kozue-senpai. This isn’t right. My love won’t change anything. This is real life now, senpai. It isn’t Hasunosora. This isn’t… It’s for the best. We promised each other to chase our dreams. We need to do that. We can’t keep living in a feeble dream. We owe each other that much. To keep our promise and chase fully after what we love.”

“Did… Did I do something?” Kozue’s voice was weak, wet from tears that now slid down her cheeks. “I’ve been… I tried. I know I’ve made mistakes, but I’ve been trying each day to make up for hurting you. What did I do wrong? I thought after last night—”

“Why won’t you tell me what worries you?”

“Huh?”

“You only told me of your fear of going for singing when you were drunk and years too late. Why won’t you tell me of your phone call last night?”

“With Megumi? What does that have to do—”

“I can’t keep living begging you to open to me, Kozue-senpai.” Kaho’s hand moved to her chest, fingers sliding under the edge of her shirt as if it’d help her breathe easier. “You read me like a book, I leave myself open raw to you, and every time you see all and still do the opposite of what I want. You’re like a house of smoke, senpai. The moment I feel I see you; smoke comes up and I can’t see anymore. I just… I wish you’d be open as I was. And you’re not. No matter how many chances I give you.” Her voice broke, and there were they, those traitorous tears— “It was okay for a decade, because then we were still at a distance. But now you’ve given me such happiness, made my dream come true, that it hurts to remember we’re still in different places for each other. You remember my promise but still don’t let me keep my side of it.”

Silence fell between them, only broken by their sniffles. Kozue looked down at her hands, and Kaho knew they were shaking as they always did when she was nervous.

“I don’t know you either, Kaho,” murmured Kozue. “You say you’re like an open book, but it’s not true. I don’t know why you couldn’t see things as I did. It’s been months and I… I still didn’t know until last night and now of what your feelings for me really were. You can’t…” Kozue clenched her jaw, words slipping past her lips as if they were tearing her throat apart. “You can’t expect me to read your mind. I… I thought leaving you was the best thing for you. If you’d have told me—”

“Then what?” They were running in circles at this point. She was tired of it all. “You’d have stayed? We both know you wouldn’t.”

“Maybe I would have,” confessed Kozue, a sob breaking her words. “You didn’t give me that choice. Maybe if I knew you wanted me by your side like I wanted you, in that same scary way, maybe I wouldn’t have done what I did.”

They remained there, silent. Kaho felt like going to lay down again, suddenly more tired than sad. They’d never get anywhere, would they?

“We keep living in these maybes that…” Kaho swallowed the bile in her throat. “Maybe it’s sign that we can’t ever be right for each other in the way that matters. Maybe we went all wrong with it. We… There’s nothing that ties us now besides a past long gone. We didn’t stay when we should have, and now it’ll do us more damage than not if we do.” Her vision was blurry. “I can’t… I love you. I can’t let you do a choice that goes against our promise. These days were the happiest, and I’m grateful for them. For you being here. But maybe that’s all there could be for us.”

“I didn’t tell you of my worries because it was my choice to make,” said Kozue, after a moment of silence. “Because… Because I knew you’d say this if I did. And I’m not strong enough to refute you.”

That made her smile, a smile that was worse than if she’d sobbed and clung to Kozue. Based on the broken expression in Kozue’s face, Kaho knew she thought the same.

“The fact you still think that it’s best to be silent than face me is proof of what I said,” whispered Kaho.

Kozue stared at her and refused to look away even as they both cried. They were both young, then, sixteen and seventeen, but this time Kaho refused to reach out, refused to give out a hand she knew would be taken only physically. What use were flowers if in the end they’d dry and wither? This was the kindest thing she could do for Kozue. Let her go towards clearer skies. Let this flower wither in peace, enjoy its short bloom for what it was instead of prolonging the inevitable.

“I’m sorry, then,” said Kozue. “For… for these feelings of mine.”

Kaho looked away first, swallowing the urge to get up and throw up.

“I’m sorry too,” she replied. “I knew it would get me nowhere, but I still loved you.”

And that was it, Kaho supposed, the end of them, the death of a hope that Kaho felt would live despite all.

Gathering Kozue’s things is less mental breakdown inducing than Kaho had expected. Perhaps they were both too numb to do anything but silently gather things, eating the brioches and drinking the coffees Kozue had gone out to buy for them. Kaho had been right, deep down. The end hurt more than its aftermath.

Kozue didn’t have many things, and they were done in mere hours. They sat on the couch and kitchen counter, Kozue talking in a low voice on the phone as she brought a plane ticket for that same night. Kaho supposed the Otomune inheritance came in handy when you wanted to leave someone as soon as possible. She sat on the couch, looking outside the window as it rained. Paris was so depressing when it rained, romantic only when someone wasn’t saying goodbye to their heart.

After all was said and done, Kozue said she’d go earlier to the airport. Kaho nodded, silent and saw as she went to get changed. When she came again, Kaho was already wearing her coat and shoes, silent even as Kozue got ready to go out and wear her shoes. Both froze when they heard a familiar meow, looking down to find Yomi-kun pawing at Kozue’s leg.

“Yomi-kun…” Kozue’s voice came out weak, even as she lowered herself for the cat. He kept meowing, more vocal than he usually was, brushing his head against Kozue’s hand. Kaho bit her lip, looked up to not allow herself to feel the depth of her desperation. “It’s okay, Kaho is going to be with you. You won’t be alone.” Yet, despite her words, he kept meowing, as if knowing what was about to happen. God, how were they even going through with this if even a cat was feeling sadness over it?

Yomi-kun sat there, eyes wide and looking at them as they got up, as Kaho opened the door and allowed Kozue to go out first. Even as the door closed, he remained looking at them, meowing pathetically. She didn’t want to see the broken expression Kozue was wearing, wanted to forget the way her hands shook as she closed the door, as she gave Kaho the second key she’d have made for herself. There were so many things she knew she’d never remember, even when she knew that moment would be etched into her memory.

They reached Rivoli in no time, standing in front of the train tracks in silence. Venus loomed behind them, laughing silently at their doomed human feelings. No matter what, one could not go against fate. Look at where that’d gotten them. Kaho remained frozen, even as she heard the train come, even as people began exiting. She turned to Kozue, and found her already looking at Kaho, pathetic and broken. Did she still think all the pain they’d experienced was precious?

It made sense, of course, to lean for one last kiss, one last opportunity for Kaho to remember her before Kozue left to chase after her dream the way she was meant to, the way she never could if Kaho held her back. Kozue whined against her lips, and the kiss soon became salty. Kaho didn’t know who was crying, but knew that when she pulled back, she’d hurt Kozue in a way she didn’t know if she could ever heal back. At least now she could finally be free from Kaho.

She walked to the train slowly, standing in the middle of the cart looking as if she hadn’t known how she got there. Kaho saw her go, and panic overtook—

“Kozue!”

Kozue turned, and the doors closed.

“I love you,” whispered Kaho. Kozue read her lips, because something broke in her expression. She opened her mouth and—

The train went away, and so Kaho could not see what she’d said. If she’d said it back.

Staring at the empty tracks, Kaho realised she’d never allowed Kozue to say it back. She’d never managed to keep the memory of Kozue saying it, and now Kaho would have to continue without knowing how that confession sounded from Kozue’s lips.

It’s Ginko who called her first. Kaho would have expected Megumi, or even Tsuzuri. At one point, she was sure Sayaka would barge in her door even if it was mere hours since Kozue had set off. She returned home and sat where Kozue had before she left, staring at the empty glasses. All doubles. All matching. They’d gone shopping when Kozue began living with her, both shy and smiling as they decided to buy matching things.

God. She was alone again. Found a dream worth chasing, saw a life worth living, and lost Kozue. Weren’t they once all the same things? Being an idol, being with Kozue. Being lost, being with Kozue. Finding a new dream, losing Kozue. Was this how it was all meant to go? Months of hoping, months of dream, months of sleeping each night and deep-down believing things could change. All over in a single day.

The phone broke her numbness hours later. Kaho checked the time the same time as she read Ginko’s name. Wouldn’t Kozue’s flight have set off by then? She wiped her tears and coughed, trying to make her voice sound happy as she opened the call and said hello—

“Are you okay?”

“Eh?”

Ginko coughed on the other side of the phone. “I… Um. Hime told me that she and Megumi-senpai had to cut their time short due to Kozue-senpai calling her.” Kaho felt like throwing up. Of course, she’d called Megumi— “And then she’d left Hime. Seeing as she was supposed to be there with you…”

“It’s—” The words get stuck in her throat. Fresh tears, unwilling to keep away, rolled down her cheeks. “Ginko-chan, I messed up.”

Ginko stayed silent, as if expecting Kaho to keep talking. And talk she did. “Kozue-senpai always said how hard it was to do the right thing sometimes. She said that endings are painful, but that they are the only way to preserve good memories.” A sob broke her words. “I don’t think this is what she meant.”

“Kaho…” Ginko’s voice was soothing, and Kaho felt less like a senpai and more like the junior. Ginko made her feel that way so many times she often felt ridden by guilt from it. “Did something happen with Kozue-senpai?”

“She left for Japan again,” said Kaho. “For good this time. I… I told her to.”

“Um… can I ask why?”

“She made an album,” said Kaho. “Last night, I overheard her and Megumi fight about it. I… She told me, how lost she’d felt. This was supposed to be the culmination of her dream, the start of it. And she was wasting it here, by my side. And she refused to tell me. I… Some things were said, and we decided it was best to… end things. If there were even things to end. I just… I couldn’t let her make that choice. I promised to help her make her dream come true, not to… Not to ruin it.”

Silence met her. For a moment she thought the line had fallen through, but she heard some shuffling, and something that oddly sounded like Kosuzu whispering before Ginko spoke. “I… Can I ask you something?”

“Sure…?”

“Are you sure that’s what happened?” Ginko’s words came slow, as if nervous. “I know you mean well, Kaho, but… sometimes both you and Kozue-senpai tend to… read between lines that don’t have anything to read between.”

“I… what?”

“I mean… you did just overhear only part of one side of a conversation. Didn’t Kozue-senpai… um…” Ginko paused, and her next words came as if in a rush. “Didn’t you two already consolidate the feelings you shared for each other?”

“We…” Kaho looked at the counter, pristine clean, still smelling lightly of the detergent Kozue had bought and used to clean it. “What?” Did her words decide to leave her now when she needed them?

“Your… feelings?” Ginko was confused too. “I… Isn’t that one of the reasons why you were unable to return mine?”

Kaho laughed, a dry laugh that was more of a snort than not. “What feelings, Ginko-chan? We- It wasn’t like- Wait… your feelings?”

A pause. This time, the silence felt heavier, and Kaho looked down at her phone to stare at the seconds passing. Ginko didn’t talk until fifteen seconds had passed.

“Well, the feelings I had for you during our Hasunosora days, and for some time after our days there ended. I… Why do you ask?”

“You didn’t have feelings for me!” Her heartbeat raced. “I was your senpai, and sure, we were close, and I’d give my life for you—”

“A feeling which is returned—”

“But you didn’t! We were like Kozue-senpai and I, or what she thought we were. Isn’t… isn’t it always like that? Isn’t that normal?”

Another silence. Was this phone call mostly silences and words barely said out loud? God, there went all the growth Kaho had had in the past decade. All thrown out of the window over realising things had never been how she’d looked at them. Of course, she knew that what she and Ginko had was… not simple. Things rarely were in their unit, nor when two people shared a dream. Kaho still remembered Ginko’s bright eyes, young and filled with hope in a way that resembled Kaho’s reflection, confident in ways she and Kozue had never been. The best of them, is what Kaho sometimes thought. Confident in ways they never had been, emotional in ways she and Kozue always danced around one way or another, direct with a strength they lacked. Kaho knew the shades of those feelings, but to have them confirmed—

“Do you think it was like that with Ruri-senpai and Hime? Or Megumi-senpai? Or Kosuzu with either Sayaka-senpai or Tsuzuri-senpai?”

Ginko was right. It really wasn’t. It wasn’t even close. Sometimes Kaho was sure Sayaka really thought Kosuzu was her first child, and Hime and Megumi and Ruri were such thick thieves like three musketeers that—

Well. Ginko was right. There went eleven years of emotional peace.

“I love you, Kaho,” said Ginko, and the sincerity in her voice scared Kaho. When had Ginko become this strong? Kaho knew she always had been, but to be this direct— “Of course, not the same way I did during our Hasunosora days, but with the same intensity. I… Sharing a stage together, it was my dream come true. There’s… there’s always something special about that, sharing a dream with someone. Or, I suppose, you will always feel something special about the one that helped you make your first dream come true.” Ginko paused, hummed. “It’s easy to love the person you first dream with. Love and dreaming are similar in the happiness they give you, aren’t they?”

“I…” Kaho swallowed. “I really love Kozue-senpai, Ginko.”

“Doesn’t she… not feel the same? I find that hard to believe.”

“You do?”

Ginko laughed, softly, comforting even on the other side of the phone. “There’s a reason I said your feelings for her were only one of the reasons of why I knew my love for you would always stay the way it was.”

Kaho’s eyes widened, tongue heavy in her mouth. “Kaho, Kozue-senpai wasn’t even with us anymore and her love still lingered in every corner. It… I don’t think you truly realised you were the person to make her first dream come true too.” Kaho could only stare at the counter, close to thinking she was having a heart attack—

“If you stood there loving her for how she changed your life, what do you think she felt when you did the same for her?”

When she was fifteen, Kaho knew that Hasunosora was the only way she could ever have the life she sought and desperately longed for. It was her mother’s past, and she knew she could write her future in it. When she reached it, she realised it was not what she wanted, an isolated place the same way the hospital used to be. So, Kaho, at fifteen, wanted to leave that place.

When she was fifteen, as she sought to escape Hasunosora the same way she’d tried escaping her hospital stays, Kaho came across a beautiful girl. The girl was her senpai, and Kaho could tell that even if the girl had yet to tell her anything else. She shone brightly and handled things with a stability only someone used to them could. This same girl looked at her the same way Kaho had looked at the pamphlets of Hasunosora; curious and excited. This girl had taken Kaho in her arms with ease and talked to her with the same ease after.

This girl turned out to be Otomune Kozue. This Kozue was still a mystery to Kaho, who thought her insistence of making Kaho manager of the idol club was only charming because of her pretty face. This Kozue was the Kozue Kaho fell for in the way you fall for the beautiful actresses in the screen, those who shone so bright and were so passionate that you could do nothing but be lured in. It was this Kozue who Kaho choose to stay for. It was this Kozue, who twisted her ankle saving her and who always smiled gently and chastised her with warmth, that Kaho held onto, her feelings a beautiful blurry glass.

Then Kaho was sixteen. And this Kaho lost Love Live, and for a moment, she felt lost. A dream so bright, something she was so passionate for, all lost at the blink of an eye. Hadn’t all the sweat they’d put been enough? Hadn’t Kozue’s brilliance been enough? This Kaho saw Kozue who stood tall and proud, who accepted the loss with a smile and blank eyes.

This Kaho too, was the one who saw Kozue break, who saw Kozue cry and beg and feel worthless. Kozue wasn’t tall, wasn’t strong. Kozue was seventeen and heartbroken, her first love breaking her heart. Dreams and love were similar, Ginko had been right in that regard. Both broke you when you felt rejected by them. The Kozue who kneeled and cried wasn’t who Kaho stayed for, who convinced her to become an idol even if she’d never thought of it before.

At sixteen, Kaho met a new Otomune Kozue. It was this Otomune Kozue that Kaho fell for. It was this Kozue, eyes red and pathetic and still crying, who she fell for. Kozue smiled at her and believed in Kaho the way no one else ever had, held her hand and laid her first love in Kaho’s hands, in Kaho’s care. That day, Kozue trusted her with what was most precious to her the same way Kaho had done a year ago.

Years passed. But that moment was when it all changed. All along, Kaho had seen her own perspective, had seen the happiness she felt when she was trusted, her glee reflected in Kozue’s eyes when Kozue had believed in her. But what of Kozue? Hadn’t Kozue felt something similar too? Hadn’t she told Kaho that in her own way, repeatedly, since that day, at the tapes, in Paris?

She thought of Kozue. Not the one that now was in Japan, nor the one who broke her heart in Shimoda, nor the one who left her at the hotel. She thought of the Kozue she first chose to stay for, of the Kozue that she fell for. Kaho, for the first time, truly saw that Kozue clear as the day. Her memories had been blurry, but they had never felt clearer as they did hten.

Kozue at seventeen, heartbroken. Kozue who thought her dream was over, who thought of herself worthless, not enough. Hadn’t Kaho felt the same? In her mind, she remembered the tears in Kozue’s cheeks. Her dream over. Her love broken. In her mind, she tried seeing herself from Kozue’s eyes. Broken and hopeless, and a hand reached out, reflecting a confident smile despite the tears in the person’s eyes.

The fire within you burns bright, and it illuminated all the dark, hopeless corners of my heart.

Kaho saw herself, thought of how Kozue could not see the fear in her heart. Could not see that Kaho feared not achieving what she was promising Kozue. All Kozue saw was her smile, her hand, the flower in her hand. All Kozue saw was someone who promised her to achieve her first dream and love and who did. Someone who promised to be by her side and stood there. Someone who—

At eighteen, Kozue was a girl who stood before another girl who trusted her to want more sunrises together, despite the fear Kozue had shown, despite all the lack of inspiration for her dream. At twenty-eight, Kozue was a woman who felt lost, who chased after a version of her dream, who stood before the one who she would always be a senpai to, who she had always wanted to see her good side. At twenty-eight, Kozue was a woman who was afraid but still willing to try, still willing to do what she feared the most, still willing to chase after her dream and have the one who inspired her for it.

God. Kozue and she were similar; hadn’t she always known that? Hadn’t Kaho always known this, known this when she was young, when she was accused of doing what Kozue would do and avoid talking of her true motives, when she made with Haru the same jokes Kozue would do to her, when she’d treat Ginko the way Kozue used to treat her? How couldn’t she have seen—

“…Kaho? Oh god, Kosuzu, I think I she fainted—”

“I’m here,” said Kaho, licking her lips. “I’m… Oh my god. Kozue-senpai loves me.”

“I—” Ginko gasped, half a chuckle and half a snort. “Yes. Yes, she does…?”

“Ginko-chan, Kozue-senpai always had the same logic as I did.”

“Um… I suppose?”

“We both kissed each other for the same reasons!”

“Well, I suppose if you think so—”

“And I told her to leave for Tokyo! I need to call Megumi—” Kaho slid her phone to her hand, trying to find Megumi’s contact. “Ginko-chan, Kosuzu-chan, bye!”

“Wait, what—”

“Bye, Kaho-senpai! Kachimachi is sending you all her luck!”

Kaho closed the call and began another, shaking. She was willing to break her bank if it meant she’d be by Kozue’s side. If Hime knew Megumi had gone with Kozue, that meant she would be with her—

Kaho opened her laptop at the same moment Megumi opened the call, trying to find the soonest flight possible. Perfect, there was another one in a couple of hours. Now where was her card—

“Kaho, my dear junior, I’m kind of busy—”

“You’re going to pick up Kozue-senpai, right?!”

Silence. Megumi muttered something and Kaho heard a door opening and closing. Kaho stared at the price of the ticket. Well. At least she’d gotten a bonus for her performance. What better way to spend it than this? She’d take a loan out of loan sharks if it meant she’d have the money to chase after Kozue. Yomi-kun jumped on the kitchen island, nudging his head against her wallet. She smiled at him, pulling out her credit card with one hand.

“Look, Kaho, you know how much I love you. I really do. But Kozue is my friend too, and I’m not really a fan of this back-and-forth hurting game—”

“Megumi, I need you to make sure I can find her!” Kaho put the phone on speaker, standing up right after receiving the confirmation for her booking. Yomi-kun meowed, as if approving her actions. She ran to her wardrobe, opening it. She didn't know how long Tokyo would need her there, but it'd be best to grab enough clothes for a couple of days. “Please! Even if you must tie Kozue-senpai to a tree and feed her apples, just keep her somewhere I can find her in a couple of hours!”

“What, why—”

“You’re the one that’ll drive her home, right?”

“I am, but how—”

“Perfect! I’ll be there in the next flight.” Kaho paused, breathing harshly. Did she have to get her emergency asthma inhaler? “Megumi-senpai.” She could almost see Megumi stand taller at the title. “I need you to make sure Kozue-senpai won’t run away from me. Please. I know I hurt her, but I need you to do this for me. I need to talk to her as soon as possible. You can even not talk to me anymore, but I need her to hear me first.”

Megumi didn’t talk for a moment. What was going on that side of the phone? What had Kozue told Megumi—

“I’ll do my best,” said Megumi, her voice confident, the Megumi who held Kaho as she cried, the Megumi who once risked appearing on national news because she punched a creep that was hovering around Hime so hard they thought she’d broken his neck along with his teeth. This was the Megumi that Kaho would trust with her life. “Kaho. I… I love Kozue, okay? Despite all.” Oh, as if Kaho didn’t know that already. “Do your best, but third time’s the charm. Alright?”

“I promise. Thank you.”

“Well, that’s it I suppose! You messy children,” said Megumi, tone lighter than before. “I gotta return to my car before my manager questions why I’m taking so long talking to Ruri. Want me to call someone to pick you up? I think Sayaka is in Thailand with Tsuzuri as a surprise. I’ll tell Hime-chan to pick you up.”

“I love you, senpai!”

Megumi laughed, and Kaho felt lighter, hopeful. “Just get here in one piece. I’ll try handle the rest.”

What else could Kaho do, other than run towards her destiny?

Kaho was sure that she’d die before reaching thirty. After three double espressos, not a wink of sleep during the flight to Tokyo and manically staring at the window while barely blinking, Kaho was sure her health would catch up to her and kill her before Kozue’s risk of rejection would. When they landed, she sighed loudly, barely with relief and more of a chance to breathe easier. Passing controls was easy, without any luggage but the bag on her shoulder.

Her phone only connected when she’d passed passport control, skimming through the messages. There were barely any, besides Haru saying she could take the next week off and that she was more than happy to have Yomi-kun over despite the short notice. Short notice would be an understatement; Kaho had simply grabbed her son and kissed his head before leaving him at Haru's apartment, barely spending a minute to explain the situation before she ran away. Megumi had texted too, saying Hime would pick her up, and Ginko had texted saying she was waiting with Hime by the parking lot. No Kozue, but that was to be expected. It was okay. Surely Kaho could manage to save the Titanic from sinking. Hopefully before the Titanic decided to have had enough of Kaho and focus on music the same way a monk abstained from earthly pleasures. 

She found Hime first, her bright pink hair easily seen even from a distance. Ginko saw her first, though, waving until Kaho reached them, arms already open to receive Kaho’s bone crushing hug. She was warm and soft, and Kaho teared up. God, she’d missed her. Ginko was part of her in a way Kozue wasn’t, one equally as important even if different.

“Um… Kaho-chan-senpai, you alright?”

“I’m fine,” whimpered Kaho. She felt another hand pat on her back. Hime. “I just missed you two. Come here, Hime-chan!”

Hime yelped as Kaho pulled her in a hug, and Kaho felt more than heard Ginko’s heartbeat increase, her arms moving to hug both. Hm. Developments had happened while she and Kozue played married couple, it seemed. Was this the reason for the conversation? Kaho mused on that as they got in the car, a blue truck that did not scream Ginko, especially because of the plushies hanging on the front mirror. Hime, Kosuzu, Ginko small plushies. Was this—

“Nice choice in car, Ginko-chan.”

Ginko coughed, making to reply before Hime interrupted her. “It’s Kosuzu’s! She lent it to us for today.”

“Oh? You three still staying together?”

“Both Hime and I can do our works remotely, with only going back to Tokyo some days of the week,” replied Ginko. Even if the truck wasn’t hers, she still drove it easily, as if used to it. “Kosuzu still needs some time to recover fully from her broken leg.”

Hime turned to the side, facing Kaho. Without looking, Ginko reached out, moving Hime’s seat belt to not dig at her neck. Kaho smiled at Hime. “Ginko’s a big worry wart. Kosuzu took her cast off some days ago, but she wants us to watch over her for a while.”

“Don’t make it sound like I forced you,” said Ginko. Her voice, tired yet fond, often reminded Kaho of Kozue at certain moments. “You jumped at the chance to continue living there.”

“Potato, patato,” replied Hime. Her eyes sparkled as she refocused on Kaho again. “So, senpai, Megu-chan barely told me anything beside that I needed to help get you as soon as possible at Kozue-senpai. Wanna tell your favourite junior the tea?”

“I’m in love with Kozue-senpai,” said Kaho. The words, once so used to feeling as if they would stick on her throat, now flew easily past her lips. “I realised we both have been stupid for too long. So we might have to crash a wedding.”

“Ah, I see,” said Ginko. The next second the car screeched to a halt, her hand flying to keep Hime safe. She turned to Kaho, horrified. “Excuse me, did you just say a wedding?!”

“Oh boy,” said Hime, somehow still finding it funny. “Now I can finally use that screaming technique Megu-chan taught me!”

Kaho could only shrug helplessly. Ginko stared at her for another moment before sighing loudly, driving faster than before, muttering something that sounded very similar to Ginko not believing this shit?!

“Metaphorical one! We had one of the best nights of my life in Paris, and after I overheard what I thought was Kozue-senpai giving up on chasing her dream with all she had because of me. I felt scared and we fought, and I made her leave. After silently losing my mind for some hours, I realised that I don’t care if we have different dreams, or that she might be held back by me! Who the hell cares that aren’t united by sharing a dream like back in Hasunosora! I’ll channel my old self and find a solution that keeps us both happy!”

Kaho blinked at the lack of reaction from her speech. Hime only hummed, nodding her head thoughtfully as she turned around. Ginko simply sighed, and was she praying—

“That’s such a noob move, senpai, I gotta say.”

“What?!”

“I mean…” Hime’s voice was soft, words clearly well thought despite the cool way which she said them. “Does Kozue-senpai think that way, or do you?”

“Eh?”

“Hime is right,” said Ginko. Kaho snuck a look at the GPS and realised they were close to Kozue’s family home. “You were the one to teach me that we create our own biggest obstacles. Do you really think Kozue-senpai thinks of you as hindering her dream, or is it just you who thinks that?” A red light, and the car stopped slowly. Ginko’s eyes met hers through the rear-view mirror. “I mean, you’re still calling her senpai. Don’t you think that you are the only one still clinging to the past?”

Kaho blinked. Oh. Well. That hadn’t gone to her calculations.

“Sometimes clinging to the past isn’t all that bad, you know?” Hime wasn’t looking at Kaho as she spoke. “Future forms from there. It’s worked so far for you two. There’s a balance to be found somewhere, especially when it comes to new dynamics being on the table.”

“And now Kozue-senpai might live a life where she’s chasing after her dream unhappily,” replied Ginko. Kaho stared helplessly between the two of them, oddly reminded of the time her parents picked her up together from school. “I’m all for tradition, but sometimes the step needs to be taken to break something in order to rebuild it stronger.”

“Kaho-senpai clearly was afraid of hurting Kozue-senpai if they were together, right?” Hime turned to her. “Right, senpai?”

“Um- Well, yeah—”

“And she probably hurt her more by not being fully honest,” said Ginko. Ouch. “Sorry, Kaho.”

“It’s okay, really—”

“But now she’s trying! Look at her!” Ginko did look at her. Kaho waved, confused. It didn’t take a genius to see they were clearly having another conversation atop the one about her and Kozue. “Better late than never!”

“Let’s hope that late isn’t late enough for Kozue-senpai to think Kaho would rather have her be depressed with a dream than not,” muttered Ginko. “What’s next? Kaho goes there and Kozue-senpai says she’s too afraid to hope for something more because if it didn’t happen until now why it is happening exactly now when Kaho lost her?”

“Well, fear is fear! Ginko, don’t you think that Kozue-senpai would still take her back if Kaho-senpai was just honest?”

“My granny was honest with me too when I was a kid. Didn’t bring my dead hamster back.”

“I think that you two—”

But Hime continued, so Kaho swallowed the hesitation in her throat. “I think that if two people really, really love each other, they’ll always take each other back! Look at Megu-chan and Ruri-chan! They’re going to propose to each other soon!”

“Wait, Megu-chan is going to what—”

“At least they knew they felt something more for each other! What do you think Kozue-senpai would feel like if Kaho refused to kiss her and just chickened out every time?!”

“That’s kind of what happened at Shimoda—”

“Maybe Kaho wanted Kozue-senpai to make the move—”

“Hey!”

Both Ginko and Hime stopped talking. They looked at Kaho, who breathed deeply in and out. After a moment, the GPS pinged and Ginko made a sharp turn, pausing right before the gates of the mansion. Kaho stared at it, not moving her eyes as she spoke. “Ginko-chan, Hime-chan, I think you need to sit down and talk about your feelings. I’ll go now, and hopefully I won’t be back in tears. If I am, just run me over.”

“I don’t think I will do that—”

But Kaho already got out of the car, walking up to the gate. After ringing the bell, she waited for a moment, and the metallic gates opened slightly, just enough for her to get in. Kaho entered slowly and then broke in a dash, ignoring the weird looks from the gardeners working. She simply ran inside and could barely breathe as she looked around. And there it was, right at the very corner, where the garden began. A flash of purple hair, and Kaho ran—

“Kozue-senpai—”

“Kaho-chan?”

Kaho froze. Kozue’s mother sat on the garden chair, sipping tea with a confused look in her face. That confusion left place to happiness, and Kaho couldn’t even react as the woman scooped her in a hug. Kaho hugged her back at the very last possible moment, blinking at the warmth in the lady’s eyes.

“Goodness, look at you! You’re so much more beautiful than the pictures online show you! How are you? Did you come here for that daughter of mine?”

“Is she here?!”

“Oh, well, she did come earlier—”

“Please allow me to meet with her!” Kaho stepped back and bowed deeply, eyes falling shut. “I might not be into music the way Kozue is, but I really, really love Kozue more than anyone. I promise to make sure she can live her dream to the fullest, and make her as happy as possible! So please! Let me meet with her!”

A moment of silence. Kaho felt the sweat drip down her neck and spine, before a soft laughter broke her nerves. Soft hand rested in her shoulders, and Kaho raised her head to meet kind, blue eyes, staring at her fondly.

“While I do appreciate you asking so politely, I’m not one to decide for my daughter for these things.” She laughed again, that one specific soft laughter than Hime joked sounded like the shaking of a bag filled with gold. “Though… What brought this on? I don’t mean to assume, but you two are together, are you not? It’s not my responsibility to control whether or not you can talk to your partner.”

“But…” Kaho blanked out. “But Kozue… What? I thought we… Huh?”

“Oh, Kaho.” Another fond laughter. “She’s just like her father, I mean it. My daughter rarely starts something she doesn’t plan to see through, and she refuses to say anything until she thinks everything is perfect. I was simply giving her time to tell me about you two when she felt like it. Though I was a bit worried when she came sooner than expected without you. Did you have something to do in Paris?”

Kaho only stared at her, mouth agape. Kozue’s mother must have pitied her, or her lack of reaction, because her teasing smile turned soft, understanding. Kaho could see shades of Kozue in her; in the gentle way she grasped Kaho’s cheek in her hand.

“Whatever reason it was, you just missed her.” Kozue’s mother shrugged elegantly, pulling away to cross her arms. “She said she was going somewhere to think after she left her things here.”

“Do you know—”

“As much as you do.” She studied Kaho for a moment, before a mysterious smile turned her lips up, so much like Kozue. “Or perhaps less. Fufu, I suppose it’s in your hand to figure that part out.”

The birds sang on the garden, and Kaho felt like screaming just as loud.

When she returned to the car, Hime and Ginko were pointedly staring in opposite direction. Kaho paid no mind to that, nor to their questioning faces when she paused before the car. Where could have Kozue gone? Megumi wasn’t with her anymore, as far as she knew, and Tsuzuri was with Sayaka a country away. Where else? Her apartment? Kaho doubted that. If she’d gone to think, she knew Kozue would want air, somewhere to be alone and unbothered. Her apartment was too familiar, too closed off from the world in a way that rarely helped with thinking.

“Kaho? Everything okay?”

But where else? Where else would Kozue go to think, especially after Kaho essentially kicked her out? There was clearly no event for the album she had to go to, so that took away the possibility of her having run away there to distract herslf.

“Um… did Kozue-senpai say something?”

“She wasn’t there,” replied Kaho, still staring at her reflection on the truck. Kosuzu really kept it clean. Or perhaps that was Ginko’s influence. “Where else would she be?”

“Didn’t you once say you had your locations shared?” Kaho froze at Hime’s words. “Megu-chan said so at least.”

Kaho reached for her phone before pausing. Kozue had never found her using location. Back at Hasunosora, it was Kozue who found her deep in thought, who found her at her most confused. It was Kozue who found her in Paris, who found her when it mattered most. Kaho wouldn’t use such cheap tricks. If destiny helped them find each other that first ever time, it would do its thing again.

Kaho’s head snapped up. Ginko was already looking at her, and tilted her head confused.

“Ginko-chan, start the car. I know where we’re going.”

“When I accepted being head of organizing this year’s Bloom Fest, I didn’t think my keys would be used for this,” muttered Ginko.

“All’s fair in love and game, Ginko,” replied Hime, holding up her phone’s flashlight. The sun had set by then, and they stood before Hasunosora’s entrance as a trio of thieves. Ginko sighed, the key turning and opening the entrance. There were barely any birds due to the cold weather, but their breathing filled the silence around them, walking in the courtyard with slow steps.

Kaho could almost hear her past in the wind that brushed past them. The lights of the courtyard shone their path down to the school’s entrance. Lights were still on, in some classrooms and in the dorms. Kaho smiled at how familiar everything felt, walking beside the bickering duo.

She paused. It took a moment for the other two to notice. Kozue would not be in the main building. If she felt lost, where would she go to find herself again?

“This isn’t right,” said Kaho. Something hot had come over her, a fire that burned the tips of her mind to the tip of her toes. She felt ready to grasp something she couldn’t name yet which she felt take root in her heart ever since the day she first met Kozue’s eyes. “Guys, stay safe! I need to go!”

“Wait, you don’t mean—”

“The woods?!”

She could barely hear them as she started running, breathing a white fluffy cloud with each meter she crossed. It was crazy, it was stupid, it was illogical and yet she had years without feeling that free, that willing to grasp what was bright and before her. The woods did not echo her footsteps, but her heartbeat and the broken twigs she stepped into filled her ears like white noise. There was no reason to feel this sure. Why would Kozue come back there? Why would she be there in the first place? Why did Kaho feel like she was running towards her even if there was no reason for her to be there?

Soon, she saw the place where wall left place to a small passage. She slowed down, panting. This was it. Moment of truth. It was all in or nothing. Her steps were slow, and when she passed the wall, she could only stare, the smile growing in her lips dying down. The place, once filled by a girl with a bright smile holding pieces of wood longer than Kaho, was empty, lacking anyone else but Kaho who stood there aimlessly.

Was this it? Surely it couldn’t be. Surely not. She stood there, rooted on the spot. This couldn’t be it. She’d search the school all over if she had to, all of Japan too, but she knew that—

“Kaho…?”

That her destiny would appear before her eyes, confused at her appearance as much as she was at hers. She was still wearing the same thing she’d worn when she left Paris, frozen as if not believing Kaho was there.

Kaho smiled, hands held before her body. “I seem to have lost my way. You see, I think fate led me here.” Kozue was silent, still staring at her. Kaho gulped, smile wavering. She started speaking again. “Well, if fate had wheels and was a truck, and then if fate had legs. But… I had to be here.” She chuckled, nervous and shaky. “Did our horoscopes match again by chance?”

“You’re…” Kozue coughed, still far away that Kaho had trouble making sense of where she was looking at. “Here. Not in Paris.”

“Nope,” she said. “I’m here.”

Kozue took a step closer, then another, and another until she was standing before Kaho. Her eyes were filled with tears that she refused to shed. Kaho felt a quiet satisfaction, the same satisfaction she felt when she was sick and Kozue would fawn over her. Kaho reached out, picked a leaf out of her coat, eyes never leaving Kozue’s.

“Would you be so kind as to lead me somewhere I can rest? I think my foot hurts.” It took a moment, but Kaho saw recognition dawn in Kozue’s eyes. “I don’t think I can walk to the infirmary.”

“Well… I suppose I can lead you somewhere just as safe,” murmured Kozue, a small smile breaking in her face, slow as the sun rising, just as bright. “Hold on, please.”

This time, Kaho did not scream, nor did she ask to be put down. Kozue took her in her arms with ease, and Kaho’s wrapped around her neck just as they once had. Kozue stared at her, eyes a mixture of emotions, indecisive as to which was stronger than the other. Despite all, the warmth in her arms was the same as it’d always been, her grip just as secure, her heartbeat just as strong against Kaho’s chest. This close, she could smell the clothes’ softener they chose together, could see the focus in Kozue’s eyes as she walked them in the darkness broken only by the regular lamp posts.

“Are you taking me to the idol club?” asked Kaho, still half a mind to keep playing her role. “I heard the senpai there is willing to do whatever it takes to make her junior bloom.”

“Really? Does that include being found in the woods by same junior?”

“Returning a favor, last time I heard.” That made Kozue smile softer, steps slowing as they reached the entrance. She pulled off her shoes, still holding Kaho, and Kaho nearly yelped when Kozue moved to hold her in one arm, the other taking Kaho’s shoes off gently and slowly, placing them beside hers. Kozue returned to holding her again with both arms and Kaho wondered just how inadvisable it would be to kiss Kozue before they talked about all the herd of elephants in the room.

When they arrived by the club room, the door was already open. Huh. Perhaps it really had started getting less used than before. Kozue entered slowly, placing Kaho down before reaching to turn on the light. Kaho shook her head, and Kozue paused mid-movement.

“Do you think they still have candles where they used to be?” asked Kaho, whispering as if anyone would hear them.

Comically enough, they did. They lit two, placed them by the candlesticks left on the windowsill. With the full moon outside, the candles had little to do in terms of lighting, but Kaho enjoyed how warm the light made the shape of Kozue’s profile, how despite all, Kozue still stared at her softly as if it was the first time she saw Kaho.

“So… you’re here.”

“I am.”

Kozue stared at the candles. Kaho stared at their reflection in her eyes.

“I… Why are you here, Kaho?”

“Kozue-senpai… No. Kozue.” Kozue stood taller, somehow, at that. Kaho’s hand moved from her mouth to Kozue’s cheek. Just as Yomi-kun would do, Kozue nuzzled her cheek just enough against it for Kaho to cup her cheek fully. “You love me, don’t you?”

Kozue didn’t blink. The heat in Kaho’s hand grew, and her eyes fell half closed, but Kozue didn’t blink. Her gaze was steady, even as she blushed, even as the tip of Kaho’s pinkie felt the rush of her heartbeat in her neck. Years ago, they stood in a different position, yet Kaho felt her heart burst at the seams just as it had that day. When it came to it, when Kaho asked her, Kozue always was willing to answer.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Of course I do. I… I thought you…” Kaho nodded, and Kozue’s eyebrows furrowed further. “Then, why?”

To her, Kozue was the light she chased after, the star that lead her to her dreams. Not the destination but the guiding light. Not the top of the mountain but the trees that told her how to get there. Ginko had been right, hadn’t she? It wasn’t just Kaho whose dreams came true, it was Kozue’s too. It wasn’t just Kaho that felt out of place and scared during those Paris months, it’d been Kozue too, no matter how blind Kaho had been to it.

Kaho’s thumb caressed her cheek and halted as it met her lips. “Would you believe me if I said it was selfishness?”

“Selfishness?”

“I regret that I never let you say it to me. Back in Paris.”

“But you must have known, right? I… I tried to show you. In every way I could. I’m clumsy, and I still don’t know how to express it correctly, but… I meant it.” Kozue’s voice didn’t waver. She sounded small, and Kaho couldn’t love her enough. “I… I love you, Kaho.” There it was. Those words, so sweet, finally uttered by her lips. “I mean that. I… I love that you are so passionate about what you do. I love how you’re so humble despite… despite being the most brilliant person I’ve ever met.”

Kozue reached out, took her hand, held it between hers, against her heart. It beat harshly against their hands. “I love that even if we had years without being close, you still weren’t afraid to give me a chance. Or you were. I… I admit I can’t read you. But despite everything, you still looked at me as if I was worth your time, worth your time and attention. I love that. I love that before you, I feel braver, stronger. I feel like I can chase after everything and succeed.”

“Kozue…”

Kozue shook her head. Kaho closed her mouth, speechless. What could she even say? Kozue didn’t seem willing to stop talking until she spoke her piece. How long had she kept this in?

“I love that loving you is the only time I accept being weak and selfish. I can’t fight it. I never could. I… I clung to being your senpai, but… but I still wanted more. I thought I was doing what was right, but I realised it that night in Paris. I can’t stop my heart. I never could. I wanted so badly to be idols with you, even if I never told you. I wanted to dance and sing with the girl who stared at me and made me believe I could achieve my dream. I loved you since that day. Maybe in a different shade, but the color of love has always dyed my heart when it comes to you.”

Kozue gained spirit, and Kaho had never seen her so scared and excited before. But she had, hadn’t she? That day, standing on stage by her side, right before they were announced winners of Love Live. Hadn’t she been this brilliant that day, too?

“I’m sorry I never told you before. Truth is, I wanted to tell you yesterday. The album was… is a gift for you. It’s… it’s always been you, hasn’t it, Kaho?” Kozue chuckled, the way one does when realising a truth they’d been searching all along was right in front of them. “My brilliant junior, my brilliant idol partner. I couldn’t face that I was at fault for you not chasing your dream. I couldn’t face the fact that I could have played even a small role in you feeling lost. Yet… yet still, I’m selfish. I can’t help it. Even if I try to be responsible, I still want this…” Kozue swallowed. “I still want to be by your side. You aren’t my dream, and I can be by myself. We both can. These years have proved that. But… but why should we? Why… Just why…”

Kozue fell on her knees, crumbled like a sandcastle, still holding onto their hands. Kaho stood there, frozen. Kozue’s head was bowed, looking on the ground, held up only by her grip on Kaho’s hands.

“I feel helpless. I can’t be strong. I can’t find it in me. I thought I could be mature. I thought I could wish you well and mean it. I thought I could chase after my dream without looking back. But I can’t. You make my life better. You make it brighter. I… I can’t turn away from the warmth of the sun. I love you, Kaho. I love you. It’s as simple as that.” Kozue’s voice was almost a murmur. Kaho could hear the tears in her eyes without seeing them, could hear them in the tremble of her voice. “I loved you when you hogged all the covers back in Paris. I loved you when I lied and said I ate a brioche on the way home but instead I gave you the only one left at the bakery. I loved you when I saw you thanking me on stage that night, when you kissed me on the boat. I loved you when I knew you would push me away the moment you realised I was slacking on my dream. I… Even now, when I know you pushed me away, I still love you. I can’t help it. My heart betrays me as it always does with you. I try, but I can’t stop it from loving you.”

Kaho looked at her. In this position, she could only see the top of her head, could feel Kozue’s forehead against her thigh. It was night. The only light came from their candles. Her heart beat so loudly she could hear its pumping roaring on her ears like the waves of an ocean. What could she even say to that? What could she even do but let herself fall on her knees, meeting Kozue’s teary eyes with tears streaming down her own cheeks?

“You know, senpai, I feel the same way.” It felt proper, now, to use that honorific. Felt right in a way it hadn’t in years. “I tried, you know. I really tried. I thought I’d make you proud, do what’s right. I thought this was the proper way to live. To find a new path to chase, to go after it, to not cling to the past. The right way to bloom. But… Ginko-chan was right. I never stopped clinging to what we had. I… I wanted the best of both worlds. I wanted to be your equal yet clung to the comfort of you being my senpai. I was afraid, because of that. When we reconnected again, I was afraid if we were only getting along because of our past and nothing else.” Kaho licked her lips, braved herself to continue speaking. “I wanted to have grown, to have become someone strong and who had bloomed, but I still clung to the Kaho who was by your side, only just to be able to be by your side for even a second longer. That’s… It scared me. That I couldn’t settle on what made us happy. That I didn’t know the you before me.”

“But…”

Kaho shook her head. “Kozue-senpai, I love you. I really do. I just never knew what to do with this love, and I resented you for not guiding me with it. I wanted you to lead us, and resented you for leading us. Or for not leading us anywhere, I suppose. But I realised something on the way here. Hime-chan was right too. You can only build the future atop the past. Truth is, I was scared, but I was more scared for still wanting to bloom with you. For feeling like Hasunosora wasn’t everything for us. I wanted you, but I also wanted what we had back then. Yet, despite all, I got to know you these past few months. A Kozue-senpai I never knew before. We lived together. I got to know how you look when you wake in the morning. I got to know how you were serious in finding a middle ground on our eating times because you always wanted to eat together. Or on when we’d use the bathroom in the morning because you didn’t want me to be late for work. I got to know you as we ate together and as we slept together and as we lived together. I don’t think that’s for nothing.”

Kaho saw the conflict in Kozue’s eyes. Neither of them knew where Kaho was getting. But wasn’t that what Kaho had wanted all along? To spill her heart, unafraid of where it’d get them? That same innocence and earnest feeling she thought she’d lost.

“Senpai, I loved you, and I still do. Paris was my dream, and not just because of you. I found my new dream, I found what makes me happy. But… But that’s somehow also because of you. You said it yourself. We can live without each other, but why should we?” Kaho laughed, clipped. “Kozue, the first time I fell for you was the moment you stopped being my senpai. The dashing Kozue-senpai, the talented Otomune-senpai, they were beautiful and dazzling. But who I really loved was the Kozue who cried on her knees before me and trusted that I could pull her up from there. The one I love now… It’s you. It’s always been you. You’re still that Kozue to me, but she’s not everything. She’s only a part of you, one of the many parts I love dearly.” Kaho moved their hands, held Kozue’s between hers in the form of a prayer. If Kozue’s eyes were glinting from the candles, weren’t hers too? Could Kozue see in her the same happiness she saw in Kozue’s face? “I don’t want to chase my dream without you. I don’t think that to grow means I need to give up what we had. I want to be selfish. We might not share a dream like we did back then, but I still want us to intertwine our journeys together. I don’t want a Kozue that pushes me away to chase after my dream. I… I don’t want to be the Kaho that breaks your heart for what’s best.”

“What… What do you mean?”

Kaho laughed, loudly, unafraid. Her heart was racing a thousand miles per second, she was shaking, but nothing mattered. She stood up, pulled Kozue’s hands with her. Kozue stared at her, wide eyes and kneeling, so much like the shadow of a past that Kaho embraced fully.

“I don’t care if I have to fly every weekend from Paris to meet with you. I… We don’t have to put ourselves in boxes. Senpai, junior, something more or something less… I just want to be by your side. I want us to chase our dreams together. I want us to be Kaho and Kozue. I’m willing to face this unknown if we can be by each other’s side.” Kaho shook their hands. “What do you say, Kozue? Want to bloom together by each other's side?”

Kozue could only stare at her. Kaho smiled. Just as that night in Shimoda, she did not need to hear an answer she knew already.

TRANSCRIPTION OF INTERVIEW WITH OTOMUNE KOZUE.

Date of Interview: May 22, 2036

Location: Tokyo, Japan

Interviewer: Kaiou Haru, Head Editor

Interviewee: Otomune Kozue, Singer and Producer

Interview Objective: Otomune Kozue’s career journey and a glimpse into the personal life and creation of her debut album.

Consent: The interviewee consented to be recorded and transcribed for internal evaluation.

Kaiou:

Otomune-san, thank you for allowing me into your home for this interview. When we decided to do something more casual, I wasn’t expecting such a warm welcome.

Otomune:

Please, you may call me Kozue. When you approached me, I thought that you would be the right person for this. We already know each other, and I know you have an eye for asking good questions. It’s my pleasure.

Kaiou:

[Laughter] I suppose we know why you’re so famous with all ages. But let us begin. Otomune Kozue. Twenty-eight, already famous in the music scene with your classical concerts and work as producer with the popular singer Megumi, to name names. Now you sit before me as a singer yourself, with a debut album that has raked in great reviews and chart positions despite being merely months old. Feels like an apt description?

Otomune:

I’d simply call myself a musician, but I suppose it doesn’t hurt to accept the truth. I’ve been blessed with a musical career that has rewarded me for the hard work I’ve put. That’s not always the case for many artists, but I’m happy it’s been this way for me.

Kaiou:

All is fully deserved, I’d say. What I’m interested in is getting to know how you got here, and maybe I’ll get you to spill some details people are dying to know.

Otomune:

Fufu, Haru-san, are we sure those people aren’t just you?

Kaiou:

Journalistic integrity! I only ask you what the masses want to know. First question, when did it all begin? The music, the producing, everything. What is the start line of Otomune Kozue?

Otomune:

Hm… The grand piano in my house. My mother would often sit me in her lap as a child and play it for me. Ever since I was young, I knew music would be my future. Though… [A pause] We are here for a different look into my career, aren’t we?

Kaiou:

You’d be correct.

Otomune:

Then it all began with watching a performance of my favourite school idols.

Kaiou:

You were one too, weren’t you? Your fans always seem to love posting clips of your old performances.

Otomune:

I used to feel quite shy over that. Now, I’m fond whenever I come across those clips. I think that I’m only here today because of those days. School idols have always been precious to me. For a long time, I thought I could only show my love my preserving those times like one does with… [Laughter] I don’t know if there’s a name for it, but are you aware of those ships inside a bottle? Something like that.

Kaiou:

That’s not the same case now, I can say. In one of the songs of your album, namely Sunsets of the past, you sing of how the past isn’t something to be preserved, but something to live past. What caused this change? The past changing from something static and preserved to a fluid experience that one grows from.

Otomune:

Someone special to me is currently on a philosophical sabbatical of the sort. She mentioned to me once how this is also a discussion in philosophy. When I wrote that song, I wasn’t very aware of that fact. I was simply writing what felt true to me. The songs of this album have been written in different times of my life, but I worked on all of them under an intense deadline of around five months.

Kaiou:

You mean you made this album in that short of a time?!

Otomune:

It took quite a bit of planning, and I’m sure I frustrated those who helped me bring it to life. At the time, I wasn’t based in Tokyo, so it was an intense experience of recording in a studio that I wasn’t used to while juggling… [Laughter] Ah, that’s something else altogether. What I mean is that those months helped me come to terms that the past didn’t have to be something I had to preserve untouched in order to protect it so that it could remain precious. As I mentioned earlier, I found that others had made similar discussions. The past is fluid, it lives on and changes the same way the future does. The present is much more powerful than we think.

Kaiou:

A musician and now a philosopher too! You refuse to leave us not feeling amazed, do you? Going back on your school idol days. How would you say it formed the present you? You clearly seem fond of those times, one can say.

Otomune:

I met my closest friends during my school idol days. In my album, it’s easy to notice a theme of connection, or the strength gained in numbers. Those days made me realise no one grows in isolation. We can only grow more brilliantly through new experiences, which of course, can only come from being touched by another’s existence. I strengthened my song writing and singing abilities during those days. I also met there Megumi-san who you mentioned earlier.

Kaiou:

I must be a journalist now, soo I'm somewhat legally required to stick my nose. That wasn’t the only person you’ve met, is that correct? Word is that you’re working on a new project kept under wraps with another member of those times.

Otomune:

Is that so? Well, if it’s under wraps…

Kaiou:

You’re not denying it, are you?

Otomune:

All I can say for the future is that it holds immense opportunities for creating music through which I can express my passion through. My idol days gave me the opportunity to experience this positivism in real time.

Kaiou:

An idol by high-school, and a student by university. Later on, you made your debut as a producer. Interesting jumps in focus there. From the spotlight to the backstage.

Otomune:

I am grateful to Megumi-san for allowing me to work on her music with her. Being a producer was an experience which gave me the chance to hone my abilities in a way I couldn’t before. I’m happy I could live through those days.

Kaiou:

The way you speak of those days feels as if they were, forgive me for assuming, a side quest to a bigger goal. Am I wrong?

Otomune:

I’ve been raised into a musical family. I’ve also been raised in the spotlight. Changing tracks was an unexpected path, so you’re not fully wrong. However, I do find it was necessary. It allowed me a reprise to discover things about myself, about my creating process and what really music meant to me.

Kaiou:

And that brings us to months ago. After a months long pause in your classical music career, albeit only made of your rare concerts, and a clear lack of involvement in Megumi’s latest single at the time, you suddenly published an album of all original songs. I ask what I’m sure we both know everyone wants to know: why?

Otomune:

I mentioned earlier I wasn’t in Tokyo at the time the album was preparing. Truth is, I wasn’t supposed to release it when I did. A week or so before the actual release date, I begged my co-producers to allow me to release it then. They were confused, I apologise to them even now for all the trouble caused, but nonetheless they accepted in working harder to help me come to terms with an enjoyable final product.

Kaiou:

What happened, then, during those fateful months?

Otomune:

Haru-san, do you know the story of Penelope and Oddyseus?

Kaiou:

I’d say any lover of literature would.

Otomune:

Penelope, in her quest to wait for Oddyseus to come back, said she’d only pick a suitor when she’d finish weaving a shroud. Every day she’d weave, and every night she’d unravel her work. All her work was something that could finish in a short time. Yet, she was waiting for the right moment, for the right reason. My music… [A pause] I suppose that those years of producing were my weaving and unraveling. I was simply waiting for the right moment to come.

Kaiou:

Or your Oddyseus?

Otomune:

My creative journey has been an oddysey of its own, you’re right.

Kaiou:

[Laughter] I saw what you did there. So your album was a piece of art that was simply waiting for its time to shine. Almost like you, now that you are back in the spotlight.

Otomune:

You would be correct. My music is my dream, but it is also me. I’m at a stage in my life where I’ve accepted there is nothing wrong with chasing this with all I have, but that I can’t chase it unless I’m fueled by what helped me create my music in the first place.

Kaiou:

And what would you say is your fuel?

Otomune:

I was reminded some days ago that once I said my love for the craft. I’d humbly wish to retract that. It is love, yes, but not simply for music. It’s the love I feel for myself, who has experienced everything that got me to this point. It is also, of course, the love I feel for those that pushed me to this point. Love is my fuel, and I’m thankfully filled with it in all aspects of my life now.

Kaiou:

Love and hard work, but most importantly love. I feel like this is a great place to end our interview. I want to ask you what I’ve asked our previous interviewees in this section of our online magazine. If you could name something you can’t live without, what would it be?

Otomune:

My, that is quite the heavy question.

Kaiou:

I think it really helps reveal what drives a person forward. You said it was love, but I feel like it might not be that.

Otomune:

I’ll answer your question with one of my own. If my music and the love I feel could only bloom by the same sun, would you say the sun is what you can’t live without? Or the flowers it allows to bloom?

Kaiou:

I’d say that you might be really into gardening expect music, and wonder if the next Kozue stage is one where you spend your days blooming flowers instead of songs.

Otomune:

I’ll leave the blooming to my sun. For now, I’ll say that the sun is what’s most important to me.

Kaiou:

What a poetic ending. Not sure what I was expecting. Well, I want to thank you for this interview, and for answering all my questions. I, just as many others, can’t wait to see what the future holds for you. For now, thank you and I hope we can sit down another time and talk again.

Otomune:

I want to thank you as well. And who knows, you did mention a project under wraps. [Laughter] It was a pleasure to do this interview.

[RECORD ENDS HERE.]

The stage creaked under the actors’ movements. Their voices rang in the theater, clear despite the lack of microphones, scripts in hands barely used beside a look once or twice. It was a tense stage, and before it sat its creator, scribbling notes on each scene acted out. Too deep in thought, she did not notice the shadow behind her, yelping when the scene was done and clapping came behind her.

“Even if it’s practice, it’s still so dazzling,” said Kozue. “I’m more than just amazed, Kaho.”

Kaho smiled widely. She turned to look at the stage, and found her actors already smiling knowingly.

“Nana-chan, Junna-chan, thank you so much for your hard work! Let’s take a ten. Please focus on where you might improve the timing between the confession and the start of the song.”

“Will do!” Nana waved at Kozue, who waved back. Junna was already looking at her script, and Kaho left her muttering to herself, one hand already pulling Nana to look at her script. She too, raised her own hand, grasping Kozue’s hand and pulling her outside of the theater practice room.

The sun shone brilliantly, and Kaho winced. Had it been hours since she’d gotten there?

“I see practice is going well,” said Kozue. “Having fun?”

“As much fun as I can have in my debut stage,” replied Kaho. She sighed happily when Kozue pulled out a cold water bottle from her bag, handing it to her. She drank in gulps, licking her lips after. “How was the interview? Haru wasn’t too Haru, was she?”

“Just the right amount I’d say. It was an interesting experience, being interviewed by a friend. Though, she did tease me for wanting to come here as soon as I could. I was worried.”

“Eh? Worried?”

Kozue’s face took a pink tinge, her voice embarrassed. “You left this morning without waking me up. I was worried the stage play was stressing you out.”

Kaho blinked, her face softening. She took a closer step, her arms coming loosely around Kozue’s shoulders. Her Kozue who cared for such things. How could Kaho not love her harder one day after the other?

“You flew in late yesterday. I wanted you to rest well for today.”

“I’d be more than okay with five hours of sleep.”

“Oh, so only you can worry for me, Kozue-senpai?”

“I… I can never win with you, can I?”

Kaho thought for a moment. “Hm, nope! Not when it comes to this.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll allow myself to have such a brilliant writer worry for me.”

“You better,” murmured Kaho. She pulled Kozue in. Their lips came together as easy as breathing, resting against each other for a long, restful moment. She continued speaking like that, Kozue wrapped all around her, their lips sharing the same breath. “I do also need you to be fully charged in for what I’m about to plead.”

“Let me guess… You want to change some lyrics?”

“How did you… Well, yes. Basically. Can we? Please?” Kaho blinked at her, showing what she hoped was her best case of puppy eyes. “Pretty please? I even wrote down ideas Nana-chan suggested. Junna-chan also said she can potentially hit some low notes if we decide to go down a sadder line.”

“Hm…” Kozue hummed. Kaho already knew she’d won, but she still loved to play along. “Do I continue working on a msuic score I love, with the person I love, or deny myself both of those pleasures?” Kozue met her eyes again, smirked playfully. “What do you say? What’s the better choice?”

“I don’t know. Do I give you the co-creator answer, or the partner answer?”

“I’d opt for the third option, the Hinoshita Kaho answer.”

“Well, if that’s the case.” Kaho slid one hand against her collarbones, playing with the button she could feel underneath Kozue’s shirt. The sun reflected against hers, shining a speck of light in Kozue’s green eyes. “Hinoshita Kaho would say you shoul definitely accept, because she wants more than anything to watch this song bloom to the fullest.”

“The answer is already decided upon, then. I’d love to.”

“You’re the best!” Kaho jumped in her arms, and Kozue didn’t waver, held her in air with one arm. Her other moved slowly around her back, to rest gently against the back of her neck. “I knew it was the right idea to make you do the music for this!”

“I mean… I don’t think any music fan would say no to working with one of our most prolific writers of the moment in her theater debut.”

“Kozue, ask that question backwards. Would any writer refuse to work with the best singer and songwriter of the moment?”

“I do think I have a bit of an advantage there,” murmured Kozue. “You see, I think the writer might love me a bit more than she loves other songwriters.”

“Really?” Kaho giggled. “Why do you say that?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Can I?”

“Some long time ago, this writer promised me she’d help me bloom. I foolishly didn’t let her, but then I realised how happy we both were if I did let her. So I think she might be a bit attached to me.”

“A bit? Now, that’s no good. I’m sure I can be better than her then.”

“Oh? Why so?”

Kaho pulled away from her embrace, face to face once again. Kozue was smiling widely, and she was sure by the pain of her cheeks she was smiling equally as wide.

“Well, for one, I’m more than a bit attached to you.”

“Hm, you do drive a hard bargain. Though, there’s a slight problem.”

“Still?!”

“I kind of love her a lot,” confessed Kozue. Even now, she still blushed red at such an admission, despite the easy way which she said it. “I don’t think anyone can replace her for me.”

Kaho gulped. She leaned in again. Now, kissing Kozue felt more like instinct than a choice. It felt natural, as if it was the only way to express the depth of emotion her words still were too weak to express. Kozue kissed her back, and it still felt like that first time a decade ago, with the same quiet strength and love. Things could change, she could bloom more and more each day, yet Kozue’s love for her was the constant that would always be there.

Kaho that pulled away from the kiss. “Ah, I think ten minutes are over.” Kaho looked from her watch to Kozue, smiling. “Can I tell you a secret too?”

“Hm? What is it?”

“I do think our actresses might be going through what we did last year.”

Kozue sighed fondly. “Kaho, just because two people are high school friends and share a dream, it doesn’t mean they are just like us.”

“I mean it!” Kozue let her down as she continued speaking, tidying her shirt. “Also, did you know they already acted out a Phantom of the Opera performance back then? How poetic is that!”

“I think it’s a good coincidence.”

“It’s fate! They are meant to bloom together again on this stage! Just like we are.”

Kozue stood by the door, her hand on the handle. “Was that really the secret you would tell me? Not to assume, but you did tell me these exact suspicious after we did our first run through of the play with them.”

Kaho stared at her. This was Otomune Kozue. This was the senpai that found her when she was lost. It was the senpai that gave her a dream, who allowed her to find herself and to bloom in a shared dream. She was also the senpai that crumbled before her, who shone brilliantly despite all. But she wasn’t just that. She was also the girl Kaho met years later. Just as brilliant, just as beautiful. Kaho loved her even more.

Through all, she’d been the girl Kaho loved the most, the girl who could make her life brighter, her dream more enjoyable. The girl who now, even if temporarily, intertwined her music with Kaho’s writing, who would not leave even after their dreams would return to being parallel lines. No, not parallel lines. Lines that ran as DNA did, dreams that were equally important in forming them.

Otomune Kozue. Hinoshita Kaho. What were they but two people who loved and were loved?

“I love you,” said Kaho. Her smile bloomed. “That was all.”

Kozue smiled back. “It is not a secret, but I’ll treasure it just the same. And Kaho?”

“Hm?”

She already knew what Kozue would say. It did not make the words less sweet to hear.

“I love you too.”

The door opened. Their new stage would begin again. Kaho held her hand and allowed herself to face it together, just as they’d face all that was waiting for them.

Hinoshita Kaho was eighteen when she graduated from the Hasunosora Girls' High School.

She was nineteen when, after a short pause, began university. At twenty-one, Hinoshita Kaho began working at a publishing house. At twenty-six, she refound the one who helped her bloom for the first time. At twenty-seven, she lost her all over again.

But things would change. The sun would set, but it’d also rise again. A cherry tree would bloom every year, no matter how many times it’d shed its petals.

At twenty-eight, Hinoshita Kaho met Otomune Kozue once again, the girl that once upon a time gave her a star to chase after. This time, they both had their own stars. At twenty-eight, Hinoshita Kaho proudly shone alongside the one who she too made shine brightly, who too made her shine brightly. And that was what could never change again.