Archive of Our Own ^beta

The incessant pattering of heavy rain drowns out the usual bustle of late-afternoon Shinjuku. Warm raindrops splatter on the asphalt with enough force to reach Shunpei's ankles; his umbrella's barely keeping him dry, and at this point, his favorite pair of white tennis shoes are completely soaked, which only makes his mood even worse. 

He's been stuck inside a windowless studio recording the same scene for the past five hours, so by the time the director sent everyone home for the day, Shunpei hadn't realized how bad the storm had gotten. 

Even with the heavy summer rain, Shunpei's dreading his return to the dorms. He doesn't want to be reminded of his crushing burden, which is impossible to avoid when he's surrounded by the rest of his energetic groupmates.

With a sigh, Shunpei adjusts his umbrella and scans the street, trying to find some solace within the blurry storefronts. His gaze settles on a shop with a striking royal blue awning. Beneath the awning, hanging baskets of vibrant yellow summer flowers sway in the wind, and white-speckled ivy climbs up the brick walls of the storefront, snaking around the arches of the tall, frosted windows. 

As he walks closer, he realizes that this place is a café. The nutty aroma of freshly-roasted coffee permeates the air, even overpowering the pungent smell of rain on hot asphalt that blankets the city.

On a whim, Shunpei decides to go in.

The high-pitched twinkling of the doorbells mixes with the rich notes of a piano, which plays a tune so beautiful it knocks the breath out of Shunpei's lungs.

He stands in the entryway for a moment too long, dumbfounded by the live piano music in a place like this. When he finally gathers his bearings, he closes his umbrella and shoves it into a plastic bag, then tugs the bill of his cap down further over his face.

While the barista at the counter takes someone else’s order, Shunpei drinks in the atmosphere of the coffee shop.

In the back sits a stunning grand piano, ivory with gold trim. Shunpei’s too far away to discern the features of the pianist, but even from here, their presence at the instrument is captivating.

Spacious booths perfect for studying or gathering with friends surround the perimeter of the shop, whereas smaller tables with quaint centerpieces surround the floor in front of the piano. Everything blends together organically, creating a comfortable, rustic atmosphere. All of the guests seem to be enjoying themselves, and even Shunpei already finds himself feeling more relaxed in this charming place.

“Welcome to Seidou Grind,” a man greets from behind the counter as he cleans an impressive-looking espresso machine, pulling Shunpei out of his quiet observations. “If you have any questions about the menu, I'm happy to help.”

The barista doesn't look like he should fit in a place like this, with colorful tattoos covering his arms and creeping up to the hard lines of his jaw, or the spiked stud piercings above his eyebrow that frame his stern countenance. And yet, he also fits in so naturally here, like this place is his home. 

Even though it's hidden behind his cloth mask, Shunpei smiles. “I'll take whatever you recommend. I’m always looking to try something different.”

The barista barks out a laugh. “Kyahaha, I like your attitude.” He swings the drying cloth over his shoulder. It’s the same cheerful shade of yellow as the flowers that hang outside. “You want it for here or to go?”

Shunpei scans the shop once more. It would be a hassle if he were noticed by any fans, and his manager will be on his case about it for weeks if anything ends up in the tabloids. But all of the customers are either engrossed in their own work and conversations, or charmed by the charismatic pianist’s music. 

And, Shunpei wants to hear more from this pianist, too.

“I’ll kill some time here while the storm passes,” Shunpei finally says, and the barista smiles and pulls out a clean mug.

“Alright, one mystery special comin’ up. Take a seat wherever and I’ll bring it over.”

After paying, Shunpei walks into the room, following the sweet notes of the piano. He takes an empty table near a secluded corner, hoping no one will pay him any attention. 

Now that Shunpei’s closer to the piano, he can make out the musician’s features better. 

The pianist is an attractive man about Shunpei’s age—possibly a bit younger. His chocolate brown bangs are pinned back with a clip, but small curls fall loose and frame his face. Shunpei isn’t sure if his cheeks are pink from the exertion of performing, or if it’s the remnants of a sunburn. The vitality that he radiates makes Shunpei think of bright summer days at the park, of the smell of freshly-cut grass and ripe strawberries.

Everything about him is captivating.

As this man’s hands move across the keys, he silently mouths the words to the song he’s playing, which Shunpei vaguely recognizes as a song from a popular anime. The way he plays is so effortless and free, so full of pure joy.

It makes Shunpei long.

At a lull in the song, the barista comes over with Shunpei's order.

“Cortado with vanilla. It’s nice after a long day, but not too strong that it’ll keep you up,” the barista explains as he sets the mug down. Speckles of cinnamon and vanilla bean dust the rich milk froth, and the earthy tones of the spice mixing with the aroma of the espresso put Shunpei at ease. “Name’s Mochi, by the way. If you need anythin’ else, you know where to find me.”

Shunpei somehow manages to take his eyes off of the pianist long enough to nod. “It smells great. Thanks, Mochi.”

Mochi waves and heads back to the counter, leaving Shunpei with his thoughts, a hot coffee, and this enchanting pianist. 

The last notes of the song fade, and the man lifts his head and flashes a brilliant smile. A few patrons clap, which makes the man preen. Even from his spot, Shunpei can see how the rosy flush spread across the pianist’s cheeks darkens. 

When the light applause ends, the pianist's demeanor shifts once more to be serious and focused. After another beat, he takes a deep breath and places his hands on the keys. Shunpei finds himself holding his breath as well, anticipating this person’s next move. 

The only sound in the shop comes from hushed conversations and the distant hissing of the milk frother.

A mellow chord rings through the room, which gradually flows into a lively, upbeat melody. The music blends perfectly with the ambience of the coffee shop and uplifts the mood of the patrons, who have all but forgotten the dreary weather outside. 

It's magical, almost, the way the music flows through the room—like it's the very heart and soul of Seidou Grind.

With this song, too, the pianist pours his entire heart into each verse. His movements are confident and comfortable, as if he’s played this song a thousand times, painstakingly carving each note into his flesh and bone; Shunpei doesn’t even see sheet music on the piano, only the dark screen of a tablet on the music stand, so he wouldn’t doubt this to be true.

In all honesty, Shunpei has never seen anyone play like this before in his life.

And yet, there’s something familiar about this pianist—something that tugs on the wispy edges of his consciousness and begs him to remember.

Heart beating faster, Shunpei tries to grasp at the faded memories of himself from a past life. One where he was allowed to play to his heart’s content. Where he didn’t have to worry about record deals, comeback promotions, variety show appearances, learning complicated choreography, and being forced to star in TV dramas that have nothing to do with his music career. 

And when he finally remembers the cooling cup of coffee in his hands, Shunpei pushes aside his worries for one more moment and brings the drink to his lips. Shunpei sighs when he tastes the sweetness of the vanilla mixed with the earthiness of the cinnamon and bold espresso. The coffee settles in his veins, blanketing him in a comfortable warmth. 

He lets himself get swept up in the pianist’s music and the atmosphere of the coffee shop, feeling more relaxed than he has in a long time.

Before leaving, Shunpei brings his empty cup to the counter. It feels like he’s in a haze, surrounded by nothing but the notes of the piano and the charming man behind it. As he walks to the exit, he offers a small wave of thanks to Mochi. 

Then, he’s greeted once again by the never-ending summer rain. 

🎶

When Shunpei returns to the dorm, he kicks his soaked shoes off with a grimace.

“Ya look like a drowned dog,” Atsumu points out through a mouthful of cookies. He’s sprawled out on the couch, watching some foreign volleyball match. He hasn't even bothered to remove any of the avant-garde makeup from his sponsorship photoshoot.

Shunpei takes his hat off and runs a hand through his hair. “And it looks like you’re eating the snacks Todoroki-san banned you from. It’d be a shame if we lost our lead dancer to a sugar coma, though I don’t think Kousei would mind filling your spot.”

“Kousei’s not takin’ anything from me.” Atsumu’s eyes darken, and he immediately crumples the half-eaten bag of sweets in his lap and tosses them aside. “They were a gift from one of the set managers, so I couldn't refuse it,” he grumbles.

“What about me?” Kousei's voice booms from the hall. 

Atsumu grimaces. “Go back to playin' your guitar,” he yells back.

“Welcome back, Nada-senpai!” Shouyou greets, bounding over from the kitchen. Raichi trails behind him with a shy smile. 

“We were going to make pancakes for dinner,” Raichi explains as he peels a banana. Shouyou swats at Raichi's hand when he tries to eat the fruit.

“Atsumu's brother shared a recipe for super healthy protein pancakes.” Shouyou bounces on the balls of his feet. Even after years of working together, Shunpei can't believe his groupmate has so much energy; Shouyou spent the entire day recording an episode for a variety show he's guest-starring on, yet he doesn't even look the least bit tired. “And you know it's gonna be good, because it's from Samu-san!”

Shunpei grins. “It’s not his world-famous onigiri, but I’ll take it.” With a small wave, he leaves Shouyou and Raichi to make dinner so he can wash off the rain and grime from the day.

When Shunpei returns, he finds that the fragrant aroma of banana pancakes was enough to draw Kousei out of his room, and Atsumu too has made his way to the kitchen to eagerly await dinner. Kousei’s sitting on the counter and humming the bridge to the song he's been working on, while Raichi sings in harmony with it. Meanwhile, Shouyou’s flipping pancakes with Atsumu closely watching, undoubtedly so he can steal the first one for himself.

Shunpei feels so much fondness for his groupmates—his family—as he witnesses this moment. These feelings quickly sour, as his regret and guilt creep to the surface.

It's because of Shunpei that they aren't on stage right now. 

As the leader, he should be the one who makes sure their futures are bright. He should be the one who shoulders everyone’s worries and doubts, not the one who causes them.

But how can he face his fans and sing if his heart isn't in it? And how can he stand beside his groupmates onstage if he can't match their enthusiasm and dedication?

It’s easy for Shunpei to act like this doesn’t bother him, but deep down, he’s hurting. He's lost. He’s tired.

All he can do right now is offer his support to his groupmates in other ways, while he tries on his own to figure out his heart. He just hopes he doesn't drag them down.

When Shunpei goes to sleep, the clear notes of a piano follow him into unconsciousness.

🎶

The melodies from that pianist continue to haunt Shunpei throughout the following day. Somehow, he manages to finesse his way through recording the next few scenes of the drama without showing how much he's distracted.

Perhaps the reason he can't shake the image of that pianist from his mind is because Shunpei sees in that person something that he had long ago, something just out of his reach. He wants to learn how to be free again, wants to love music the way he used to.

That pianist is the key to figuring out how he can find that spark again.

So, after the day’s filming, he decides to go back to the coffee shop. As soon as Shunpei spots the swaying pots of cheerful yellow daisies and buttercups, his heartbeat picks up. 

“Welcome to Seidou Grind,” a man with glasses and neatly-trimmed sideburns greets from behind the counter when Shunpei walks in. Mochi is nowhere in sight.

And neither is the pianist.

Once again, Shunpei finds himself standing dumbstruck in the entryway for a moment too long, only moving when he hears another customer approach behind him. He walks toward the counter, scanning the room for any sign of that captivating musician. 

On top of the grand piano sits a clear vase with a single sunflower, which reminds Shunpei of that man’s enrapturing presence. Does the flower mean the pianist will be back later?

“What can I get you?” the barista asks, snapping Shunpei's attention to him once more. Even though it's summer, the barista's wearing a long-sleeved button down shirt, which he has rolled up to his elbows. His hair is tied up in a messy half-bun, leaving loose strands of caramel brown hair to sway under the flow from the shop’s aircon. This man is shockingly handsome and has the build of an athlete—also not someone Shunpei would expect to see behind the counter at a shop like this. Just like with Mochi, though, it feels like this place is an integral part of this person, too.

“Just a black coffee,” Shunpei says. “To go.”

There’s no point in Shunpei risking being recognized if the person he came to see isn’t here, so he resigns himself to returning to the dorms and listening to Atsumu and Kousei bicker over choreography.

“Got it,” the barista confirms with a nod. He pulls a marker from the pocket of his apron and arches an eyebrow. “Your name?”

“Shun,” he supplies, after a brief moment of thoughtful silence.

As the barista writes on the paper cup, the light glints off of his glasses, obscuring his eyes. “Alright, Shun. I'll get this right over to you.”

While waiting for his coffee, Shunpei lets his eyes wander the shop once more. Even without the notes of the piano in the background, Seidou Grind has a relaxing atmosphere. The ambient noise from the patrons, mixed with the hums and hisses from the coffee machines, create their own peaceful tune.

On one of the tables nearby, it appears that someone left a magazine. Shunpei sees his own face on the front cover, a cheerful shot from their last promotion period a year ago. He recalls the fatigue he felt after each stage performance, and the uncomfortable tightness in his throat whenever it was his turn to sing. Even though he doesn't want to, Shunpei finds himself reading the headline anyway.

Fans Grow Impatient for SPEED's Return: Yakushi Entertainment's Official Response to Leader Ace's Hiatus

The world thinks Ace is on hiatus to branch out and pursue opportunities in acting. This is only partially true; Todoroki-san suggested Shunpei find an acting role so their brand doesn't go stale while Shunpei rides through his unexpected burnout.

With a sigh, he pulls his hat down further and looks away. Shunpei hates that he's been putting such a heavy burden on his groupmates and their manager. He's even more ashamed that he can't bring himself to make music like he used to. It feels like he's looking at the world through a monochromatic lens.

Out of the corner of his eye, Shunpei sees the barista walk over to the counter with his coffee. He heads over, shaking off the unpleasant feelings that headline dragged to the surface.

“Our house roast,” the barista says as he holds out Shunpei's cup. “If you need an extra kick, I can add a shot of espresso for you.” 

“This is fine.” Shunpei takes the cup, letting the warmth bleed through to his palm. He really must look as tired as he feels. “Thanks.”

“If you say so,” the barista shrugs. “Milk and cream are over there. We also have cinnamon and nutmeg out, which go really well with that roast.”

Even though Shunpei just wants to leave, he finds himself compelled to listen to the suggestion of this barista, who seems very passionate about his coffee. Shunpei takes a moment to sprinkle some nutmeg into his drink and heads out.

With the pleasantly bittersweet flavor of spiced coffee sticking to his tongue, Shunpei walks back to the dorm.

Tomorrow, he’ll try again. 

🎶

“Welcome to Seidou Grind,” Mochi calls out from the counter. When he sees Shunpei walk in, recognition glimmers in his eyes. On instinct, Shunpei braces for the incoming questions about SPEED. “Oh, hey. Nice to see you again.”

He doesn’t ask about comeback dates or autographs. He doesn’t call Shunpei by his stage name. 

Instead, Mochi wipes his hands on his apron and grins. “In the mood for anything special today, or do you wanna take your chances again?”

As he walks in, Shunpei scans the floor for any sign of the pianist. His heart sinks when he sees that lone sunflower atop the empty piano once more. Was that person only there for one day? Will Shunpei ever see him again? 

He takes care to hide his disappointment, offering an easygoing wave as he approaches the counter. Before Shunpei can respond, a different person calls something out from the door behind the counter.

“Are you experimenting with the customers’ orders again?” 

A moment later, the glasses-wearing barista from yesterday comes out, regarding Mochi with an arched eyebrow. 

“Everything’s fine over here,” Mochi responds with a shrug. “No need to be so nosy all the time.”

With a smirk, the other barista leans on Mochi’s shoulder. “You should be a little nicer to me, Mochi-kun. I’m the one who does all of the boring accounting work for our shop, after all.”

Mochi grumbles and turns pink, pushing the other barista away by his cheek. “Yeah, but don’t forget that I’m the one who does all the repairs and handiwork, Miyuki I-can’t-use-a-power-tool Kazuya.” He raps his knuckles on the polished wood counter. “It wasn’t easy to make this bar counter from scratch, you know. I got lucky that Shirasu was willing to help me bring your crazy ideas to life.”

Shunpei can’t help but feel amused at this unexpected interaction with these two, who are apparently both the owners of Seidou Grind. It now makes more sense to Shunpei why they both fit so naturally in this space; it's because they built this shop from the ground up, pouring their shared dedication and creativity into every last detail.

Still snickering, Miyuki waves Shunpei over. “Don’t let this punk bully you into trying anything weird, okay? You have complete freedom over your coffee choices here.”

“It’s all good,” Shunpei laughs. “I don’t mind being Mochi’s guinea pig.”

“Told you everything was fine, nosy four-eyes,” Mochi mutters, barely loud enough for Shunpei to hear. Miyuki chuckles and leaves Mochi’s side to grab something from beneath the counter.

“It’s Shun, right?” Miyuki asks as he ties the apron around his waist. “Thanks for coming back.”

Shunpei nods. He’s almost tempted to ask about that pianist, but he doesn’t think he can hide the emotions in his voice so easily right now. He’s also not ready to admit aloud that the reason he’s stopped here three days in a row is to see this person, and because he’s falling apart and wants to feel that spark for music again.

“It’s good to be here,” he says instead with a lighthearted grin. “I think I’ll try another Mochi creation today, but to go this time.”

“Kyahaha, you’re the best, dude!” Mochi grins and grabs a cup, shooting a self-satisfied smirk at Miyuki as he writes ‘Shun’ on the side. “I’ll have this right out.”

Shunpei doesn’t take a sip of his drink until he’s standing outside the dorm. The comforting notes of chai spices are exactly what he needed to give him the strength to face his groupmates after another day of failing to untangle the mess in his heart.

🎶

On the sixth consecutive day of visiting Seidou Grind, Shunpei once again finds himself disappointed. 

“I’ll just have a plain coffee today.” 

“Nothin’ wrong with keeping it simple,” Mochi says with a salute as he pens Shunpei’s name onto a paper cup. The shop is busy, even for a sleepy Sunday morning. The buttery aroma of freshly-baked croissants and griddle-warmed scones permeates the air, making Shunpei's mouth water.

While Shunpei waits for his coffee, his gaze wanders to the piano. For a brief moment, he feels a familiar tingle in his palms—the ghost of a time when his own music flowed freely from the keys beneath his fingertips.

Then, Mochi calls out his name, breaking Shunpei from his trance and summoning him back to the counter.

“The music was good, right?” Mochi asks with a crooked grin, handing Shunpei his coffee. There’s a knowing gleam in his eyes as he nods toward the piano. “He used to play here every day, but recently he's got a lot of stuff goin’ on. Now, he's here usually every Tuesday and Sunday.” Mochi shrugs. “Just not today, ‘cuz his team’s game got postponed earlier in the week thanks to that wicked storm.”

“Yeah? Good to know.”

Hope flutters in Shunpei's heart, and he dares to steal one last look at the piano before heading out.

As Shunpei walks the short distance back to the dorms, his phone starts to buzz in his pocket. 

“Sanada.” Todoroki Raizou's gruff voice crackles through the phone speaker. “Your filming schedule's been going on for a little while now, so I wanted to see how you're feeling.”

In all honesty, Shunpei doesn't want to admit that he still doesn't have an answer to that yet. So instead he says, “Thanks for checking up on me.”

The line is silent for a moment. 

“Don't forget to do your vocal drills. Even though you're not making music right now, you gotta keep yourself in shape.”

“No need to worry about that,” Shunpei reassures, and he means it. Even though he doesn't feel inspired, Shunpei still dutifully follows his routine. He's seen too many promising artists have their careers cut short because they didn't take care of their vocal cords.

Todoroki sighs. Shunpei can practically see the deep lines in his manager’s frown. “You have to make a decision soon, Sanada. And if you don't, I'm gonna make it for you. Even though you still have a few months left of filming, the sooner we get the plans for a new album rolling, the better.”

“I just need a bit more time to figure things out.” Shunpei kicks at a pebble on the ground. It goes skittering across the sidewalk, until it crashes to a stop at the base of a trash can. 

“Fine,” Todoroki grumbles. “I guess I can allow that, even though it means I have to beg the higher-ups.” He yawns into the phone. “I'm gonna go have a couple beers to calm down, then. See ya later, kid.”

Without another word, the line goes dead.

Even though he acts like he's annoyed, Shunpei knows Todoroki-san really cares about him (and that he's not actually going to go drink away his frustrations). Todoroki Raizou quit his old job years ago when he found out his son, Raichi, had a breathtaking talent for singing. From that moment on, he’s devoted himself to helping his son’s music career grow, which landed them both at Yakushi Entertainment. Now, Todoroki-san manages the most successful idol group in Japan—and Shunpei shoulders the weight of all of their futures.

With all of these thoughts floating in his mind, Shunpei takes the long way back to the dorms.

🎶

Tuesday doesn’t come fast enough.

When Shunpei walks into Seidou Grind, the sweet melody of the piano grounds him, melting away some of the day’s stress.

There are quite a few customers in the shop today, and the line to order almost reaches the door. Both Mochi and Miyuki are behind the counter, working seamlessly together to get orders out as quickly as possible. Miyuki looks up from the register and greets Shunpei with a curt wave, before taking another customer's order.

While Shunpei waits in line, he enjoys the peaceful atmosphere, the invigorating aroma of freshly-ground coffee, and the beguiling piano music.

When it’s finally his turn to order, Miyuki grins and pulls a marker out of his apron. “What’ll you have today, Shun?”

“How about an iced hazelnut mocha latte. For here.”

Miyuki’s hand stutters over the tower of to-go cups, momentarily surprised at Shunpei’s request to stay. “Alrighty then,” he confirms, before shoving his pen back in his pocket and ringing up Shunpei’s order.

After Miyuki accepts Shunpei's payment, he gestures to a small sign by the tip jar. “I’m sure Mochi forgot to mention this to you, but our store has an app.” The cash register opens with a mechanical ding. Miyuki exchanges the money, counting the change seamlessly and handing it back to Shunpei. “If you want to make any song requests, you can send them anonymously from your phone, and that guy will get them on his tablet in real time. You can also leave feedback for our shop, and tell us if there are any drinks or specials you’d like to see on our regular menu.”

Song requests rings in Shunpei's mind as he reads the colorful advertisement for the Seidou Grind app.

“I'll check it out.” Shunpei places his handful of change into the tip jar, then digs his phone out of his pocket to download the app while he waits for his drink.

“I can take over from here, Kazuya.” Mochi says as he saunters over to the counter, wiping his hands off on his apron. “Things are starting to slow down now, so you can take a break for a bit.” 

“Thanks.” Miyuki places his palm on the small of Mochi's back, his eyes twinkling from the genuine smile he gives in return. For a brief moment, Shunpei thinks Miyuki's irises kind of look like swirls of rich coffee through warm milk. In an instant, Miyuki’s expression shifts into something more roguish. “I'm gonna go tell Nabe-chan you’re ungrateful for the app he worked so hard on, since you didn't even mention it to one of our loyal customers,” he sing-songs, before closing himself in the back room.

“Don’t you dare—“

When the door clicks shut, Mochi pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, muttering something about never doing anything nice for that tanuki bastard ever again.

“An iced hazelnut mocha, right?” He asks, after taking another moment to recover. The tips of Mochi's ears are still red.

Shunpei bites back a chuckle. “Yeah.”

While Mochi makes his drink, Shunpei wanders into the room to look for an empty table. With each step he takes closer to the pianist, his heart beats harder against his ribcage.

By chance, a couple gets up to leave, opening up one of the small tables in the middle of the floor. Shunpei sits down, pulling his hat a little lower as he becomes cognizant of just how many people are here.

Shunpei rests his chin on his hands and gets a bit more comfortable, letting the music wash over him. 

Today, the pianist is wearing a summery orange shirt that complements the gold tones of his tan, freckle-dusted skin. Instead of a clip, the pianist has a simple black band keeping his fringe out of his face. 

From here, Shunpei’s close enough that he can see the twinkle in the man’s honey-brown eyes, and the dimples in his rosy cheeks. Just watching this pianist play makes Shunpei feel something indescribably beautiful bubble in his chest. He tries to grasp at that feeling, but he falls short of figuring out what it could be.

When the song ends, Mochi comes over with Shunpei’s order. He sets down the drink, as well as a plate with a gigantic homemade scone.

“Is this a bribe?” Shunpei asks as he stares at the buttery pastry. Judging by the sheen on the chocolate, it must be fresh from the oven. His mouth waters; Shunpei has always had a sweet tooth, and he loves trying new and interesting foods.

“Nope,” Mochi responds with a grin. “It's my way of getting revenge on four-eyes. A win for both of us.”

Shunpei snorts. “Fair enough. Thanks for this.”

“It’s mexican chocolate, so it has a little kick to it. Enjoy, dude. You know where to find me.” With a final wave, Mochi walks back to the counter.

Something warm settles in Shunpei’s chest as the sweet aroma of the scone envelops him. It’s been so long since he’s been treated like a normal person, since he’s been able to exist in a space with others and truly feel like he’s an equal. No one demands anything of the super idol Ace. 

Here in Seidou Grind, he can exist just as Shunpei—a privilege he thought he lost as soon as he signed his contract with Yakushi to debut with the idol group SPEED. At sixteen, he was the oldest of his groupmates, so he was given the responsibility of being their leader and championing their success. A year later, when he first took to the stage as Ace, it truly felt like Shunpei was closing the door on his past life. SPEED has since been Shunpei’s entire life, and he hasn’t had the time, energy, or desire to think about anything else outside of it until recently. 

Ironically, this unexpected fatigue hit Shunpei last October—at their special seventh anniversary stage performance in the Tokyo Dome. Tens of thousands of their loyal fans came, ready to hear SPEED’s most popular songs. And Shunpei realized that when he sang, he didn’t feel like himself. It felt too forced. 

With a heavy sigh, Shunpei tries to push these memories aside and focuses on the food in front of him instead. He pulls his drink closer, raising an eyebrow when he sees the shocking level of craftsmanship. A fine chocolate drizzle lines the inside of the glass cup, as well as the top of the perfect swirl of whipped cream. Inside the cup, Shunpei also sees what appear to be coffee bean-shaped ice cubes, which are also made of coffee themselves to keep the drink from diluting. He never imagined that such innovation and creativity could come in the form of coffee and scones, of all things. It always seemed so cut and dry to him, that creativity was expressed in music, in dance, in art.

Seeing all of this inspiration around him—these people who have found their little niche in the world and continue to create from the heart—makes Shunpei yearn even more for that feeling once again. 

The pianist starts a new song, one with a summery, lighthearted vibe perfect for this sunny mid-July afternoon. He practically glows as his hands move across the keys, so full of enthusiasm and raw passion.

On the table, Shunpei’s phone vibrates with a new notification. With a start, he recalls Miyuki mentioning that he can request songs on the Seidou Grind app. After swiping away the notification that he was tagged in a post by Shouyou, Shunpei opens up the app.

Its rustic design mirrors the relaxed vibes of the shop, which Shunpei appreciates. After scrolling past the menu and hours, Shunpei finds what he’s looking for. He taps on the piano icon, which takes him to a different page. There’s a dropdown box with different moods or themes to request, as well as an open-ended box to submit specific songs. 

After a moment of staring at his screen with nothing but the uplifting music flowing through his head, Shunpei gets an idea. He types out his request, and takes a deep breath as his finger hovers over SUBMIT.

After committing, he locks his phone and places it face-down on the table.

Hopefully this will give Shunpei some direction.

While the pianist finishes the song he’s playing, Shunpei enjoys his food and tries not to think too much about what’s to come.

When the song fades, replaced by the clink of glassware and light chatter, the pianist reaches under his bench for a bottle of Pocari. Wiping off the drink from his lips with the back of his hand, he checks the tablet in front of him. 

Shunpei watches as the pianist's eyes widen with surprise while he reads the screen. After another moment, his expression softens.

The patrons have fallen silent, now curious as the pianist clears his throat.

“I just received a request from a customer to play the song that made me fall in love with music.” He scratches the back of his neck, sheepish as he explains this. “It isn’t fancy, but it’s very special to me. Thank you for indulging me with this, customer-san.”

At this moment, the pianist looks up, making eye contact with Shunpei. Something surges between them for a brief moment, before the pianist focuses all of his attention on the keys. He closes his eyes, and his lips pull up into a nostalgic smile. Then, he begins to play.

The first notes that ring out make Shunpei’s breath catch in his throat.

And as the pianist plays this song, the hazy memories that have taunted the edge of Shunpei's consciousness finally burst forward with dazzling clarity.

Shunpei's brought back in time by well over a decade, to his grandparent's home all the way in Nagano. Before he signed on to be a trainee with Yakushi at the age of twelve, Shunpei used to spend the summers there while his parents went abroad. 

Every day, Shunpei would play with one of the neighbors, a small but energetic boy only two years younger than him. Even though they only got to see each other for a few weeks out of the year, Shunpei considered this boy his closest friend; his family moved too much for him to make any long-lasting friends in school.

Whenever the rain forced them to come inside, they would gather at the piano in Shunpei's grandparent's home and play music together. The boy fumbled at the keys and wasn't very good, but he dutifully followed Shunpei's instructions. 

Together, they would sit at the piano and play this song, and spend the rest of the evening laughing and singing until it was time for dinner.

Sawamura Eijun.

There's no mistaking that the boy from Shunpei's memories and the pianist before him are one and the same.

When the song ends, Shunpei’s entire body crackles with restless energy. Now, he has even more questions. 

Why that song? How did Sawamura end up here ? Does he remember Shunpei, too, or just the music they shared?

There's only one way he can find out. He resolves to speak to Sawamura today before leaving the building. 

Shunpei digs his script out of his backpack and opens up to the scenes he’ll be filming this week. He'll probably be able to concentrate better here than in the dorms anyway, since he doesn’t have to worry about Shouyou or Raichi looking over his shoulder, or Atsumu and Kousei arguing.

At first, Shunpei finds himself sneaking looks at Sawamura, each time overcome by fondness and pride for how much his old friend has grown. Slowly, his restlessness settles into a static hum, and Shunpei immerses himself into his role.

Time passes, and when Shunpei finally looks up, the shop is almost empty. The rich rays of the setting sun shine in through the windows, bathing the room in a dreamy orange glow. He blinks the weariness from his eyes and stretches his stiff muscles. 

Not far from Shunpei, Mochi’s wiping down another table. He makes his way over and nods at Shunpei. “You put in a full day, huh?” 

Shunpei shrugs. He sneaks a look at Sawamura from the corner of his eye. “Had some reading to catch up on.”

“No rush, but we’ll be closing in about fifteen minutes.” Mochi wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “If you wanna do me a favor, you can pry Sawamura from the piano. Once he sits on that bench, it’s almost impossible to get him off of it.”

“He must be really devoted,” Shunpei notes, thinking back to those days when they sat at the piano. Back then, Sawamura would always beg to practice for just a little bit longer, to listen to Shunpei play just one more song, to learn just one more chord.

“He is,” Mochi sighs, but there’s more fondness than exasperation in his tone. “If you can manage to get that stubborn guy out of here before the hour, I’ll give you free coffee for a week.”

Even though he plans on paying regardless, Shunpei agrees. This gives him the perfect excuse to speak to Sawamura. The final guests shuffle out of the shop as Shunpei packs up his belongings. He nods at Mochi and makes his way over to the piano.

Striking gold eyes blink owlishly up at Shunpei. His hands stutter over the keys for another moment, playing one final disjointed chord before coming to a halt. Shunpei takes this moment of silence to pull down his mask.

“I was sent by your boss,” Shunpei explains, pointing in the direction of the counter with his thumb. “It’s closing time.”

“That lowly tanuki Miyuki Kazuya has resorted to sending customers to kick me out?” Sawamura bellows, his eyes narrowing as he searches for Miyuki among the tables. Mochi cackles from the other side of the room, pleased that Sawamura’s ire isn’t directed at him.

Shunpei laughs, because this is exactly how he remembers Sawamura: a loud, no-nonsense force of nature. “I won’t comment on that. But I did want to talk to you on the way out, if you have the time.”

Sawamura’s mouth falls open. “You want to talk to me?” His dark blush spreads all the way to the tips of his ears, but he recovers quickly, placing his hands on his hips and laughing. “Wahaha, it would be my pleasure to speak to one of my adoring fans!”

Adoring fan, huh? This shouldn’t be as endearing as it is, but Shunpei can’t help but smile back at Sawamura. “I appreciate it, Ei-chan.”

The nickname falls so naturally from his tongue, despite how nervous he feels right now. Shunpei hasn't had stage fright in a long time, but the knots in his stomach right now are pretty similar to that feeling. He inhales and pulls off his hat, running a hand through his flattened hair while Sawamura studies his face.

“It’s you,” Sawamura breathes, recognition twinkling in his eyes. “Shun.”

Shun.

Sawamura springs out of his seat, wrapping his arms around Shunpei’s midsection. He smells like coffee and citrus, and Shunpei returns the hug with just as much enthusiasm. For a moment, as Shunpei closes his eyes, it almost feels like he’s a child again, wrapped like this in the arms of his closest friend. “I thought I saw you in the crowd earlier! My eyes couldn’t believe that you were here of all places.”

Sawamura buries his face into the crook of Shunpei’s neck. His tears smear against Shunpei’s skin, hot like the summer rain. “I’m so happy you remembered me, too,” he says in a much more quiet tone. “I’ve been following SPEED since the very beginning. You’re amazing, you know? I was really worried when I saw that you were taking a hiatus. I thought you got sick or something—“

Suddenly, Sawamura pulls out of their embrace, biting his lip as he studies Shunpei. He’s at eye level with Shunpei—now only a hair shorter, compared to their drastic height difference as children. Trails of half-dried tears streak Sawamura’s flushed cheeks, and even though he shouldn’t , Shunpei feels guilty at the sight.

With a determined fire burning in his eyes, Sawamura claps the palms of his hands over Shunpei’s cheeks. Their faces are much too close right now for two people who are just friends. If anyone were to take a picture of them right now, it’d blow up in the tabloids, and Shunpei would never hear the end of it. And yet, Shunpei’s frozen in place, stunned beyond words and reason as Sawamura studies his features.

“You are okay, right?” 

“Yeah,” Shunpei says, and the word almost gets stuck in his throat too, just like all of his music. “I’m okay. My health is, at least.” 

Sawamura blinks, processing what Shunpei said, when Mochi and Miyuki approach. Mochi clears his throat, tapping his foot on the hardwood floor. “What’s wrong, Sawamura?”

Shunpei takes a half-step back, flashing a sheepish smile as Mochi’s calculating gaze bores right through him. His demeanor now is much different than the friendly attitude he’s shown Shunpei throughout the week. Now, Shunpei fears that he may have made a mistake by revealing his identity like this.

“Everything’s fine, Mochi-senpai! You don’t have to worry about me,” Sawamura insists, waving his hands wildly. “I’m just catching up with my old friend!”

Miyuki’s expression is unreadable, a stark contrast to Mochi’s clear concern. “So you really are that Shun?” 

“That’s me.” Shunpei offers his brightest idol smile, even though his heart is pounding. “Japan’s Ace Sanada Shunpei, at your service.”

Mochi’s demeanor shifts from hostile to something more mild as he punches Miyuki’s shoulder. “You owe me dinner now, loser.”

“You said it was just a hunch that the idol was Sawamura’s friend! Your hunches aren’t always right.” 

Sawamura pouts. “Both of you knew that Shun has been patronizing your establishment this entire time and you never even told me?”

“Figured you’d find out soon enough.” Mochi shrugs. “And you did.”

This response only makes Sawamura’s lip jut out even further. It’s incredibly cute. “But he’s famous! You need to be more careful with stuff like that! What if he got swarmed by SPEED fans in here or something?”

Mochi rolls his eyes. “It’s not like we haven’t had famous people here before. Hell, Furuya comes by all the time in the off-season, and he’s always wearing a fuckin’ Yakult hoodie. Shun’s got the sense to not advertise himself like that, at least.”

“Y-you’re not wrong,” Sawamura sputters. 

“What I mean to say is that you won’t be bothered here,” Mochi clarifies, now addressing Shunpei. “And Kazuya and I will do our best to make sure it stays that way.”

“Thank you.” Shunpei offers them a small bow. It has been a long time since near-strangers have shown this unconditional kindness to him. It brings him comfort, knowing he has this space here in Seidou Grind to forget about the weight he shoulders as Ace for just a little while. 

“Alright, that’s enough from us.” Miyuki twirls a keyring on his finger. “It’s time for lights out.”

Sawamura exchanges a brief glimpse at Shunpei, before looking at Mochi and Miyuki with pleading eyes. “Can we stay for a little longer? I’ll behave, I promise!”

“You can leave through the back,” Miyuki relents, running a hand through his messy hair. “Just make sure you lock the door from the inside.” 

Mochi points a finger at Sawamura. “Triple check it this time, Sawamoron. If I find it open, your piano’s gonna become firewood.”

“Fortissimo didn’t do anything wrong!” Sawamura squawks. Anticipating this response, Mochi shoots a withering glare, which makes Sawamura stand stiffly and salute. “This Sawamura Eijun vows to responsibly lock the door this time!”

“He’s left it open overnight before?” Miyuki shakes his head. “You know what—I don’t even want to know. We need to get Sawamura insurance on this place.”

“Kyahaha, now that’s a good idea,” Mochi snorts, slinging an arm over Miyuki’s shoulder. “Let’s get outta here. You owe me steak.”

“I don’t recall consenting to that, you leech . You’re getting conbini chicken, because that’s what I’m eating for dinner. In case you’ve forgotten, the fridge is empty, and I don't feel like going to the grocery store tonight.”

“You’re the one who said groceries could wait another day or two, asshole.”

Miyuki and Mochi continue to bicker as they walk out the front door, but they’re both smiling.

“They’ve also known each other for a really long time,” Sawamura explains after the lock on the front door clicks. “Kuramochi-senpai and Miyuki-senpai went to the same high school in Tokyo. Then we all played baseball together on the same college team.”

“Really?” This information doesn’t surprise Shunpei that much; it’s obvious in the simple ease between Mochi and Miyuki that they’ve had years to learn each other’s quirks. He’s also not surprised that baseball brought these three together, because Shunpei spent plenty of time playing catch-ball with Sawamura in his backyard.

“Mochi was also my RA for my first two years. I liked to hang out in his room to play video games, even though he used me as a guinea pig for his top-secret RA wrestling moves.” 

“Wrestling moves?” Shunpei questions, both curious and amused.

Sawamura waves his hands, his eyes widening comically. “But don’t get the wrong idea! Even though my senpai can be jerks sometimes, they treat me very well! Wahaha, I’m basically the favorite little brother, even though Furuya likes to think it’s him. In fact, Miyuki Kazuya brought this piano into the shop just for me.”

“He seems like a tough one to crack,” Shunpei notes with a chuckle. Then, with a little bit of longing, and a lot of sincerity, he adds, “I’m glad that you have people who look out for you.”

“Me too.” Sawamura smiles, and it’s brighter than anything Shunpei has ever seen before. He sits back down on the bench and pats the spot next to him, encouraging Shunpei to sit. There’s barely enough space for them both on the cushy bench, but Shunpei doesn’t mind. Sawamura doesn’t seem to, either.

“That stingy tanuki got this piano as a hand-me-down from a hotel that closed down, but she still works like a charm! I named her Fortissimo.”

Sawamura’s left hand hovers over the keys. His fingers are long and dextrous—perfect for the piano. Shunpei also notices the two freckles on the knuckle of Sawamura’s index finger, and finds himself smiling at another fond memory it brings up. 

“I caught that,” Shunpei chuckles, running a hand over the polished wood. “She kinda reminds me of my grandparents’ piano.”

“I thought so too!” Sawamura’s effervescent smile makes Shunpei’s heart skip a beat. “Do you want to play a duet with me?”

Shunpei’s gaze falters. He considers Sawamura’s question for a moment, but he knows he isn’t ready. “If I play right now, you’ll only be disappointed.”

They sit in silence on the bench, close enough that their thighs are pressed together. Sawamura’s warmth bleeds through the thick material of Shunpei’s jeans. Even though it should be uncomfortable with the humidity that hangs in the air, Shunpei welcomes the contact.

“It was you who requested that song earlier, wasn’t it?” Sawamura’s serious, but his tone isn’t patronizing. Inhaling sharply, Shunpei nods. 

Another beat passes. Sawamura finds his hand and squeezes it, a silent encouragement.

“I think I lost what it means to love music,” Shunpei admits softly, squeezing Sawamura’s hand back. He likes the way their palms feel against each other. “And I’m trying to find it again.”

Before Sawamura can respond, Shunpei’s phone buzzes with an incoming call. Reluctantly, he pulls it out of his pocket to check the caller ID. It’s Raichi. He usually only calls when he's worried about Shunpei, which is a sure sign that he’s been gone for too long.

“I think that’s my sign to head back,” he sighs and locks his phone. “Can we talk more later?”

“I’d like that a lot.” Sawamura's head bobs enthusiastically. He gestures to Shunpei's phone. “I can give you my number, if that works? And I’m usually here Tuesdays and Sundays to play, so you can always stop by then if you have time. But I know you're busy and probably don't have a lot of time, and that's okay too—”

Shunpei places a hand on Sawamura’s shoulder to calm him down.

“It’s okay,” Shunpei says with a crooked smile. “I’ll make time.”

The way Sawamura’s face lights up after hearing this makes something spark in Shunpei’s chest—just for a fleeting moment. “I’ll show you the way out,” he offers, taking Shunpei's hand.

Sawamura leads them through the coffee shop’s storage room to the back exit, and Shunpei doesn’t even question the fact that they’re holding hands, because it feels so natural. He puts his hat and mask back on, and makes sure to double check the door lock right after Sawamura, because it’s the least he can do for Mochi and Miyuki. Then, they both walk into the back alley.

For a moment, neither of them move. Sawamura kicks at the ground. “I’m really glad you came back, Shun.” 

“Me too.” Shunpei places his hand between Sawamura’s shoulders, a gentle goodbye. “See you later, Ei-chan.”

While Shunpei walks home, he sends two texts. One goes to Raichi, explaining that he’ll be back at the dorms soon. The other goes to Sawamura, saying I missed you.

🎶

“I’m back,” Shunpei mumbles as he steps into the dorm. The evening news is playing on the TV in the common room, though Shunpei's certain no one is watching it. As he shrugs his backpack off, he notices Raichi approaching from the kitchen.

“Welcome back, Nada-senpai!” With a small smile, Raichi holds out a cold bottle of water for him. “It was really hot out today.”

Shunpei gratefully accepts the drink. “It was.” Even though he feels bad for doing so, Shunpei uses the excuse of drinking water to avoid talking about anything SPEED-related. He doesn’t want to be the reason Raichi is disappointed.

“Today Shouyou and I went shopping for some snacks, and we saw a poster for your drama in the subway station. Shouyou made a funny pose with it.” Raichi pauses. “Um, did filming go okay today?”

Shunpei shrugs. Seeing Raichi look at him with such genuine concern makes his heart flip. “It was fine. We ended early, so I spent the rest of the day reading at a coffee shop.”

“A coffee shop?” Raichi’s eyes light up. “Do they have desserts?”

“Next time I’ll bring back something for you.”

“Bring something back for me too,” Atsumu chimes in, leaning his elbows onto the bar counter on the other side of the kitchen. “I’m dyin’ here, Shunnie. Haven’t had anything sweet for almost a whole week.”

With a snort, Shouyou joins Atsumu at the counter, slinging an arm over his taller senpai’s shoulder. “Not having sweets for a whole week won’t kill you, Tsum-tsum!” He then angles his head toward Shunpei, batting his eyelashes innocently. “But coffee shop desserts do sound really good.”

“Coffee shop?” Kousei asks, shoving his hands into his pockets as he shuffles into the kitchen. “Did anyone notice you there? Last time I tried to sit down in a place, I had an entire line of people asking for my autograph. Someone even asked for my cup when I was done, which was strange. I dunno why they’d want my trash.”

Sometimes, Shunpei wonders what actually goes on in Kousei's head besides music. “You didn't give it to them, did you?” he asks, even though he has a feeling he already knows the answer.

“It saved me from having to throw it out,” Kousei says with a shrug. Shunpei grimaces, even as Kousei continues to speak. “Anyway, someone with a face as nice as yours can get by just fine in this kind of industry. You could just lip-sync, and the fans wouldn’t care. Putting your face on our music video thumbnails will always draw people in and get us views.”

Atsumu nods. “For once, I agree with Baldie-kun.”

Unphased by the nickname, Kousei nonchalantly adds, “But for someone like Atsumu, all he has going for him is his talent. So if he loses that, he’ll sink fast.”

“Say that to my brother’s face too, ya jerk,” Atsumu mutters, pressing his forehead into the counter as a cloud of gloom swirls around him.

“But Osamu’s handsome! He has kinder eyes than you, and his facial symmetry is much better.”

“We’re twins,” Atsumu hisses. His cheek is now pressed against the marble countertop. “Our faces are exactly the same.”

“I don’t think that’s the point anyway,” Shouyou cuts in, mercifully ending Kousei and Atsumu’s squabble before it escalates. “Who cares if you have a pretty face or a scary face? We’re doing something that we enjoy. As long as we get to stand on stage together and see our fans, I’m happy.”

Together.

To push away the lump in his throat, Shunpei takes another drink from his water. The only people who understand Shunpei’s feelings the best right now are his manager—and now, Sawamura. He hasn’t outright told the rest of SPEED that he can’t create music; when asked by his groupmates, Shunpei just says he needs time to recharge at home after so much worldwide promoting. They don’t know the depths of his struggles, nor could they truly understand them, because they all can still play their music with so much heart.

“Why don’t we order takeout for dinner tonight?” Shunpei proposes, tapping into his weeks of acting to flash a relaxed smile. He’s desperate to change this topic, because he still isn’t ready to talk about his complicated feelings in front of everyone like this. “I promise not to tell management.”

Shouyou beams. “Do we still get to have desserts later in the week, too?”

“Yeah,” Shunpei agrees, his smile relaxing into one that’s more natural. “I promise.”

By the time their food arrives, Atsumu and Kousei have both forgotten about their petty argument. Raichi puts a baseball game on in the common room, and they spread out to watch and talk with one another over dinner. Like this, they all enjoy a relaxed evening together. As they eat, Shouyou fills most of the space with excited stories about the variety show he’s been guest hosting on. 

Later that night, when Shunpei’s in his bunk and preparing for sleep, he replays everything that happened today in his mind. 

“Nada-senpai?” Raichi’s quiet voice calls from the top bunk. “Are you still awake?”

Shunpei exhales through his nose. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“I just…” he trails off, trying to find the courage to say what he wants. “Want you to know that I’m here to listen, if you need me. You seem more distracted lately... and you always say that as our leader you have our backs, but I want you to know that we have yours, too.”

“I appreciate that, Raichi.” 

And, even though he feels uncertain about everything else, Shunpei will always be grateful for his considerate friend—and the rest of his groupmates too, even though they can sometimes be a handful. 

He also finds himself thinking about what Sawamura had said about how Mochi and Miyuki treat him like a younger brother. For Shunpei, Raichi’s the closest thing to that. As the youngest member of SPEED, with an incredible vocal range and a penchant for heartfelt ballads, Raichi has also earned the title of the nation’s Little Brother.

“Today...I reconnected with an old friend that I lost contact with after signing on as a trainee. Guess I’m just feeling a little sentimental.”

“At the coffee shop? That’s really cool that you found your friend after all this time!” The bed squeaks as Raichi shifts in his bed. “Were they surprised? They didn’t treat you badly, did they?”

“He didn’t.” Recalling the way Sawamura called him by his childhood nickname instead of Ace, Shunpei smiles. “He treated me the same as before, like no time had passed at all. It was refreshing.”

Even though Sawamura had admitted to being a fan of SPEED, he didn’t treat Shunpei like an idol. Nor did Mochi or Miyuki, who could have easily tried to use Shunpei’s appearance in their shop as a publicity stunt; it’s happened before, and he’s sure it will happen again in the future. 

“He sounds like a really good person.” Raichi says around a yawn.

“You don’t have to stay up for me, Raichi. I know you have an early morning tomorrow.” Shunpei finds himself yawning, too. “Thanks for listening.”

“Any time, senpai. ‘Night.”

When Raichi’s breathing evens out, Shunpei rolls over and closes his eyes. His blood still thrums with a restless energy, so after what feels like an eternity of trying to sleep, he flips back over and digs his phone out from beneath his pillow. He sees another text from Sawamura—a simple goodnight with a kaomoji—and his heart flutters.

After responding, Shunpei decides to scroll through his Insta feed. Right at the top, he sees Shouyou’s most recent post. His shock of orange hair appears even more vivid against the monochrome poster that features Shunpei and his co-lead Mishima, who are brothers in a post-apocalyptic world overrun by zombies. Shouyou’s doing an action pose next to Shunpei’s face with a bright smile. Beneath, he has the caption: 

look at how cool our zombie hunter @aceofficial is!!! #outshopping #SPEED #Ace #DEAD/UNDEAD #lilbroraichitakesthebestpics

Just seeing the poster for the drama leaves a bitter taste in Shunpei’s mouth. The producers are kind and care about everyone, but Shunpei finds the entire experience exhausting. He doesn’t want to be stuck in these kinds of roles, which rob him of his freedom to be creative in his own way. With a sharp inhale, Shunpei locks his phone and shoves it back under his pillow.

When he closes his eyes, Shunpei can feel the weight of all the hopes and dreams of his groupmates pressing down on his chest.

He still isn't sure what SPEED’s together will be.

🎶

In the days following their meeting, Shunpei and Sawamura continue to text, but they're usually just exchanges about small moments in their days. Shunpei also learns that Sawamura tends to send pictures: of the stray cat outside his apartment, of the puffy clouds floating in the picturesque cerulean sky, of sheet music the old lady down the street shared with him, of his freckled nose and radiant smile.

Even though Shunpei wants to know more—to know everything—about Sawamura, he thinks it’s better to speak about these things in person rather than over text. Their schedules don’t seem to align well this week, so they both agree to meet after Sawamura’s shift at the coffee shop on Sunday.

Even though filming for the drama has been more hectic this week, Shunpei also continues to stop by Seidou Grind for a daily pick-me-up, even if he can’t stay for long. He looks forward to these trips, as well as the easy conversation with Mochi and Miyuki. 

And when Shunpei brings home a box of Miyuki’s homemade pastries that Friday, his groupmates gather around the kitchen island for dessert, all enjoying each other’s company in this simple moment. Shunpei wants to continue to see his family smile, wants to have more moments like this with them.

His heart tells him that he doesn’t want this to end—that he doesn’t want to lose the family he found in SPEED. But Shunpei’s still struggling against whatever it is that has become tangled within him.

The next morning, Shunpei wakes up to a text from Sawamura. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he opens the message, and almost drops his phone from what he reads.

Ei-chan

if you have time let’s meet up today! 

me

You can’t wait until tomorrow to see me, huh?

Ei-chan

not another minute!! I’ve been dying all week waiting to talk to you 

Kanedacchi yelled at me lots for being distracted during our group sessions this week, so he told me to take the evening off and do something fun (~‾▿‾)~

me

I’m excited to talk to you more too

Name the time and place and I’ll be there :)

Ei-chan

OSHI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

While waiting for Sawamura to give him the information about their meeting, Shunpei gets up and prepares to clean himself up for the day. He doesn’t have any filming scheduled, so today is a true rest day for him. The thought of being able to see Sawamura makes him feel giddy. When Shunpei sees his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he’s surprised by what he sees. Even with shaving cream smeared on his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes, he looks more like himself than he’s felt in months. He smiles and continues to shave.

They’re meeting at a park later in the afternoon, which Sawamura vigorously promises will be a private place for them to talk without being bothered. Since the rest of his groupmates are either out working or using the weekend to see their families, Shunpei decides to spend the morning catching up on his social media and cleaning. At a lull in the morning, he finds himself walking to Seidou Grind for a coffee. As Shunpei walks home, he chuckles to himself at how quickly this has become a habit for him. 

Having spent his whole childhood moving from place to place, and later constantly travelling for promotions with SPEED, Shunpei has never had the opportunity to carve out a routine for himself like this. He likes having this bit of control over his day, having something familiar to fall back on. Shunpei doesn’t even mind walking around in the stifling Tokyo heat all covered up, because this small bit of freedom feels much better to him.

Before Shunpei knows it, it’s time for him to meet Sawamura in their designated meeting spot. As promised, the park is completely empty at this time of day, though it’s most likely because it’s uncomfortably hot outside. Even with the harsh rays of the late-afternoon sun making everything hazy, this park is pleasant. Despite being in the middle of the city, there’s so much greenery and natural color. It feels almost like time has stopped in this place; the only movement comes from the swaying branches of the tall trees and the ruby-red dragonflies that skim over the grass.

After a few minutes of wandering around the small alcove Sawamura instructed him to wait at, Shunpei finds himself feeling oddly anxious. He checks his phone, and to his relief, finds a text from Sawamura explaining that he’s on his way.

Shunpei looks up, and he sees Sawamura emerging from a path a few meters away. He waves with both arms, his enthusiasm palpable even from this far away.  Sawamura bounds over to Shunpei, reaching his side within moments. Pieces of his hair stick out in odd directions, and the apples of his cheeks are red from the sun.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he pants. “Practice went a little late, and I had to run back to my car to put away all of my equipment. Our diamond is only on the other side of the park, but sometimes it feels like it takes forever to get over here.”

“Do you still play baseball?” Shunpei asks, noting the grass and dirt stains that streak Sawamura’s knees. “Mochi mentioned before that you had a game.”

“I coach,” he responds with a proud grin. “For the best team in the Tokyo Junior League.”

“A coach, huh? I do recall you being a little bossy when we were kids.”

“I wasn't bossy, I was particular!” Sawamura makes some vague hand gestures in an attempt to convey his point. “There's a difference!”

With an amused grin, Shunpei slings an arm around Sawamura’s shoulder and says, “You’re right.” 

He doesn’t care that Sawamura’s a little sweaty, but it’s too hot for them to be this close and walk, so Shunpei lets his arm fall back to his side as they continue down the path. They fall into a comfortable stride, staying close to the shade of the towering oak trees that line the park’s pathway.

Sawamura angles his head to look at Shunpei. His dark eyelashes are long enough that they brush against his cheeks when he blinks. “Alright, since you asked me a question, I get to ask you one now.”

“So that’s how we’re doing this?” Shunpei braces himself for whatever questions his old friend may ask. He’s sat for plenty of interviews before, yet answering questions about himself in this context feels different. “Fair enough.”

“Okay, here is my question.” Sawamura’s lashes flutter as the gears in his mind turn. Shunpei finds it incredibly endearing. “Do you want to quit music?”

Actually, Shunpei wasn’t prepared for this . He flounders for an answer, trying to cut through the tangle of complicated emotions in his chest. When he hears Shouyou’s voice saying as long as we’re on stage together, Shunpei opens his mouth to speak.

“I don’t think so.”

Sawamura hums, thoughtful as he digests Shunpei’s answer. He doesn’t say anything else, which Shunpei appreciates, because he wouldn’t know how else to respond.

“My turn now,” Shunpei says, still feeling a bit lightheaded. He takes a deep breath through his nose and counts to five, and Sawamura nods to show that he’s ready. “Do you just play at Seidou Grind, or do you have other gigs?” 

“This one plays exclusively at the coffee shop and for school functions!”

“So you don’t have any plans on going professional?” The question tumbles from Shunpei’s lips before he can stop it, though he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about this often since he first saw Sawamura sitting in front of the piano.

Sawamura shakes his head. “That’s not where I’m meant to be. As much as I love sharing my music, I want to help others grow their own love for it.” The rich tenors of his voice are full of enthusiasm. Even though it should be impossible in this heat, Shunpei has goosebumps. “So that’s why I’m in grad school now. I’m getting my master’s degree in education so I can become a music teacher.”

A music teacher. “Is that so?” 

“It’s because of you that I kept playing, you know. Your passion lit a fire in me, and showed me just how magical music can be. It has the power to heal, the power to inspire, the power to teach, to create change…”

Sawamura stops.

“I want to help you find it again, too,” he declares, his sincere eyes reaching all the way into Shunpei’s soul. “Your reason for creating music.”

Shunpei can only gape, left speechless by Sawamura's earnest comment.

“And when you do, I want you to play a duet with me. I want us to sit together and play Fortissimo as equals.”

“As equals,” Shunpei repeats, with the image in his mind of Sawamura glowing at the piano, effortlessly commanding the room's attention before any music even fills the coffee shop. 

At one point, Shunpei’s favorite part of performing was that moment of silence before a song begins, when the tension between himself and the audience was equally matched. In this fleeting moment, everything would click into focus, and Shunpei would feel unstoppable.

Now, if he thinks about singing, he feels dread, and the heavy expectations from his fans, from his groupmates, from himself. It isn't stage fright, but it's more that he feels trapped—like his voice isn’t his own. 

“All those years ago, you never gave up on me. Even though I could barely play a simple chord, I kept mixing up the symbols for natural and flat, and I was too uncoordinated to use two hands...you kept teaching me.” Sawamura’s nostrils flare. “So I’m not going to give up on you.”

So many thoughts and feelings swirl around Shunpei’s mind as he holds Sawamura’s gaze. The only thing he can say in response is a genuine, “I’m in your care.”

A pair of dragonflies cut in front of them on the path, dancing circles around each other in the air. Shunpei and Sawamura both follow the path of the vibrant dragonflies as they disappear into the trees. The serious atmosphere dissolves, Shunpei’s inner turmoil turning once more into a static hum in the back of his mind. 

Sawamura’s pinky brushes against Shunpei’s deliberately—a question. When Shunpei doesn’t shy away, Sawamura links their little fingers. Small, reassuring sparks crackle on Shunpei’s skin from the contact.

“I promise to always have your back, Shun.”

And these words hit Shunpei. Hard. For so long, he has been the one to say this to others. He has been the pillar of support, the country’s reliable and charming boy-next-door idol. To have not only his groupmates, but his long-lost friend say that they will be there for him— it makes Shunpei feel a little choked up, but not in a bad way. 

Even though everything still feels uncertain, Shunpei also has hope.

“Now since you asked two questions in a row, I get to ask two as well,” Sawamura declares with a booming laugh.

And even though Shunpei now realizes that he’s not prepared for whatever else Sawamura may throw at him, he thinks he’s okay with that.

🎶

When Shunpei walks into Seidou Grind the following afternoon with this week’s script in tow, he still finds himself replaying last night’s conversation with Sawamura in his mind.

Sawamura wants to use his talents to spark a love for music in others.

Sawamura wants to support his childhood friend, unconditionally.

Sawamura wants to play a duet with him. As equals.

As Shunpei takes his seat, he studies the way Sawamura’s posture eases as he moves across the keys. Today, he’s creating music perfect for a quiet and lazy Sunday afternoon: a slower tempo with a mix of both light classical and jazz vibes. At a transition point between songs, Sawamura turns his head to scan the floor and locks eyes with Shunpei. He flashes a smile, effortlessly flowing into his next song while he shares this small, private moment with Shunpei.

With his heart hammering in his chest, Shunpei pulls out his script and tries to ease back into his role as Ivan. This week’s recording is going to be even more demanding than usual, because there are a few emotionally-charged scenes. Even though it’s a pain, Shunpei’s going to have to work hard to make his acting convincing.

He doesn’t even realize how much time has passed until Mochi comes by with a glass of water. “Make sure you’re staying hydrated. Today we’re hitting record-high heat.”

Rolling the cramp out of his neck, Shunpei gratefully accepts the water. The shop is mostly empty now, but Shunpei notices that the other customers who are still here also have fresh glasses of water at their tables. “Thanks, Mochi. You’re a good guy.” With a nod to the empty seat on the other side of the table, Shunpei grins. “Why don’t you take a break for a minute? You shouldn’t work yourself into the ground, either.”

Mochi cranes his head to check the counter, most likely to see how Miyuki’s handling the work. They have some sort of silent conversation with each other from across the room, and then Mochi’s taking the seat across from Shunpei. 

“Thanks for letting me crash at your table,” he says with a crooked grin. Shunpei realizes that Mochi now has a few new piercings in some unusual places on his ears. After years of being an idol, Shunpei has seen his fair share of unique jewelry, and has had a few piercings himself that he has since let heal. He doesn’t think any star he’s seen can pull off this look as naturally as Mochi does.

“I’m glad to have the company,” Shunpei responds honestly as he closes his script booklet. Even though their outside appearances are very different, Shunpei sees a lot of similarities between himself and Mochi. 

After a moment of companionable silence enjoying Sawamura’s music, Shunpei stretches his arms behind his head. “So, what made you two decide to open this shop?”

Mochi taps his fingers on the table. “It all came down to the both of us not wanting to be stuck in some stuffy corporate nine to five job. Realized that we wanted something for ourselves, y’know?”

Shunpei nods, because he understands all too well the frustrations of being caged—of not being free to express himself the way he wants to, of not having the space to make music he feels proud of. “That’s not an easy decision to make at such a young age, either.”

“My background’s marketing and Kazuya’s degree is in accounting, so we felt like we stood a decent shot at becoming small business owners,” Mochi explains with a shrug. “A bunch of our old friends helped out with bringing everything together...from getting hardware supplies, to figuring out permits, finding the best deals for warehouse goods, and decorating. My ma was also really happy that I finally found a place to hang some of the canvases I’ve done over the years.”

Shunpei arches an eyebrow, now looking more closely at one of the paintings hung on the wall—a colorful piece that he had spent some time admiring during one of his previous visits. The bold brushstrokes definitely fit Mochi’s personality, but there’s also an underlying softness to the piece. 

Hearing more about the backstory of Seidou Grind—and how so many people came together to create this dream—makes a pleasant warmth radiate in Shunpei’s chest. Now, he thinks he can appreciate all of the little details in this place even more.

“But even with all of the effort we put in, our shop had a pretty rough start.” Mochi rubs the back of his neck, a bit sheepish as he admits this. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who likes to lose or admit any weakness; neither is Shunpei. 

“Kazuya and I thought it was gonna go under, but we were both too proud to pull the plug. Ended up blowing through all of our savings to keep it afloat.” He gestures with his head toward Sawamura and the piano. “And then that fuckin’ tanuki spends the last of his money on a secondhand piano without even telling me. When he and Sawamura hauled it into the place with matching dopey smiles, I nearly lost it. Thought that after we graduated I’d never have to deal with their evil battery hivemind bullshit again.”

The way Mochi just speaks his mind without holding back is equal parts refreshing as it is amusing. Shunpei continues to nod along as Mochi shares his story.

“When Sawamura sat at that piano and played, it made our regulars want to stay, and got more people talking. Before we knew it, we were flooded with new customers, and started getting more regulars. Demand went up, so we started selling our food and merch to local vendors.” He looks fondly at Sawamura, who’s still engrossed in his music. “That guy really saved us. He was the heart of our baseball team back in college too, so I really shouldn’t be surprised. There’s just something about him that makes you want to stick around.” 

Even as children, Shunpei knew that Sawamura cared deeply and strongly for others; he always stood up for the weak, and wasn’t afraid to give the neighborhood bullies a piece of his mind, despite being much smaller. Sawamura has so much heart, so much drive. 

He forged himself into the amazing pianist before Shunpei now, who plays with such emotion and grace that the patrons of Seidou Grind can’t help but focus their attention on him.

It makes Shunpei feel so proud to see the life his dear friend has made for himself, and how he has touched others’ lives, too.

“Betcha didn’t expect to get that much of an earful, huh?” Mochi chuckles. “I’m gonna start getting the place ready for closing. Thanks for listening.”

Shunpei smiles, hoping Mochi can see his expression of gratitude behind his cloth mask. “Thanks for sharing, Mochi.”

After stowing away his things in his backpack and returning his empty cups, Shunpei finally makes his way back toward Fortissimo.

This time, Sawamura jumps up from his seat and meets him halfway, beaming as he tackles Shunpei into a hug. The feeling of Sawamura’s arms wrapping around Shunpei makes something flutter in his stomach. He lets the feeling stay, because he’s never felt more comfortable than he does in Sawamura’s warm embrace.

Once again, Mochi and Miyuki let Shunpei and Sawamura stay past closing time, giving them the privacy to talk together in the air-conditioned coffee shop. 

The last thought Shunpei has as he says goodbye to Sawamura at the back of the shop is, I want to play a duet with you.

🎶

The next few weeks go by in a blur for Shunpei, between his filming schedule, promotions, and meeting up with Sawamura in whatever fragments of free time they share. Sometimes they go for walks in the park after Sawamura finishes coaching. Other times, they dare to venture into a quiet ramen stall for a quick dinner together, despite the risk that Shunpei may be noticed. Most often, however, they end up staying behind at Seidou Grind, laughing, reminiscing and filling in the gaps about each other—making up for the time stolen from them over the past thirteen years.

Though Shunpei also realizes that he and Sawamura fit so naturally together, almost as if no time has passed between them at all. Spending time with Sawamura fills Shunpei with a vitality that he hasn’t felt in a long time, and he finds himself feeling regretful that he couldn’t have kept in touch with Sawamura when he signed on as a trainee.

But there’s no use in worrying over something that has already passed, so Shunpei just allows himself to enjoy this time he has now with Sawamura. Even with SPEED’s future hanging over him, and the very real possibility that he may not see Sawamura as much when his hiatus ends, Shunpei gives himself these moments with Sawamura—because by his friend’s side is where he feels the most free.

One Sunday evening after Seidou Grind closes, Sawamura plays a few more songs just for Shunpei to hear, because I don’t feel like stopping the music yet, Shun!

In this moment, as Shunpei sits beside his old friend at the piano and sees the ways in which Sawamura has blossomed as a musician, he makes an important realization: 

If Shunpei can get to the point where he can play a duet with Sawamura as his equal, then maybe—just maybe—he can feel worthy enough to stand beside his groupmates onstage once more.

And when the last notes of the evening finally leave Sawamura’s fingertips, Shunpei’s entire body continues to thrum with an indescribable energy.

Their conversation and laughter replace Sawamura’s music, warm tones that float over the polished wood of the piano and fill the room.

This time, when it’s time for them to part ways at the back door, Sawamura hesitates. He bites his lip, his hand hovering over the door handle.

“Everything okay?” Shunpei asks, concern turning his veins cold. “If something’s on your mind, you can always talk to me.”

Sawamura blinks. “E-everything’s fine! I just...have a question, I guess. And I wasn’t sure how to ask it.”

“Shoot.” Shunpei grins, even though a bit of worry still pools in his stomach. “The worst that’ll happen is that I get a good laugh out of it.”

Muttering a surprisingly quiet oshi, Sawamura prepares to speak.

“Our last game of the season is in two weeks. The kids get really motivated when there’s a big crowd to cheer them on, and I kinda promised them there would be lots of people there to watch.” Sawamura looks up at Shunpei through his lashes, a bit sheepish as he kicks at the ground. “If you have the time...do you want to stop by and watch, too?”

Sanada has thrown the ceremonial first pitch in NPB games before, which always made him long for more. Sometimes, he wonders if he might have pursued something more with baseball if he had been given the freedom to play. He always enjoyed watching the games afterward and seeing just how zealous and dedicated the athletes are to their teams.

But if Shunpei gets recognized, he would only be a distraction to the game, which wouldn’t be fair to the kids. “Will it be okay for someone like me to be there?”

Sawamura nods. “Mochi will be there too, so he’ll make sure no one bothers you. The parents get really into watching their kids play, so I don’t think you’ll have to worry.”

“Then I’ll be there,” Shunpei promises. Even if he has to ask for some favors from the set producers to give him the time off, he’ll do it if it means he gets to see Sawamura Eijun in his element. If it means it'll make Sawamura happy.

“Thank you,” Sawamura says, interlacing his fingers with Shunpei’s. “It means a lot to me. Knowing that you care.”

“It’s hard not to care about someone like you, Ei-chan.” He squeezes his hand. “And I'm really grateful that you let me just be me. ”

The only other people in Shunpei’s life who treat him normally are those at Seidou Grind and his groupmates. Even though Shunpei always basked in the attention of his fans and the opportunity to be in front of a camera, he never realized before just how much he missed this simpler pace.

Shunpei wants his SPEED family to meet the other people who are important to him, the others who see Sanada Shunpei first, rather than Ace.

“Raichi and Kousei have been talking nonstop about wanting to watch a baseball game. If it’s okay, maybe they can come, too.”

“We will do our best to make it a game worth remembering!” Sawamura exclaims with a small salute. The light flush on his cheeks is incredibly endearing, Shunpei thinks, and he can’t seem to look away. “I’ll ask Mochi-senpai if he’ll be okay watching out for all three of you, but I’m positive the answer is gonna be yes.”

Later that night, Shunpei’s phone lights up with several texts from Sawamura.

Ei-chan

the great mochi-senpai said he’ll watch out for you all

so it’s okay for the others to come!! (๑•̀ㅁ•́๑)✧

screenshot01.jpg

When Shunpei reads the text conversation with Mochi, he snorts. 

me

as long as they don’t do anything stupid? haha I’ll do my best to keep them in check

though I’m not responsible for anything that comes out of Kousei’s mouth

Ei-chan

our mochi will keep you all well disciplined!! he can wrangle anyone ᕦ(ಠㅗಠ)ᕤ

me

haha hopefully we'll be better than some rowdy freshmen

Instead of going to sleep right away that night, Shunpei and Raichi excitedly whisper to each other about baseball through the frame of their bunk bed, until they both start to doze off.

🎶

In the time before Sawamura’s final game, they still steal small moments together when they can. At the dorms, Atsumu calls Shunpei out for being distracted with a goofy grin on his phone and sneaking out all the time, but Shunpei just decides to keep him distracted with small food bribes. 

Shunpei wants to introduce all of his family to his oldest friend, but he wants to wait for the right time. Meeting Raichi and Kousei first will be better, because Shouyou and Atsumu can sometimes be a little too intense—though Shunpei’s sure Sawamura’s no-nonsense attitude would be able to handle their personalities. He just fears for any fallout.

On an evening after one of Sawamura’s practices, Shunpei meets him in the park. They haven’t been able to see each other much this week with Shunpei’s promotions for DEAD/UNDEAD picking up, so he’s eager to speak to Sawamura in person.

Since it had rained the night before, it’s less humid, but the dampness sticks to the ground and licks at Shunpei’s bare ankles. The feeling brings back memories of walking along the winding dirt path between the strawberry fields hand-in-hand with Sawamura the day after a storm. They used to have a competition to see who could make the biggest splash in the puddles along the path; Shunpei would always let Sawamura have the bragging rights, even though Shunpei knew his splashes were always bigger.

Even though Sawamura’s parents would chastise them both when they returned covered in mud, they continued to play this game whenever there were enough puddles around.

Shunpei toes at a small puddle that formed in a small buckle on the asphalt path and smiles, enjoying the rest of the scenery as he waits for Sawamura to come from practice. Dew glistens on the grass and hangs on the sharp points of the oak leaves. Some stray droplets fall from the leaves, splattering onto the path and creating tiny stars on the asphalt.

This time, Sawamura sneaks up from behind, planting his palms on Shunpei’s shoulders and springing upward. “Surprise!”

Shunpei effortlessly handles Sawamura’s added weight, despite the way his heart stutters from the tickle of Sawamura’s breath over the shell of his ear. Another beat passes, and Sawamura’s landing back on the ground with a thud.

“I didn’t realize you were part frog,” Shunpei laughs, angling his head backward to see Sawamura’s face.

“I'm not,” Sawamura says between giggles, before springing forward so that he now stands in front of Shunpei. His smile is so wide the corners of his eyes start to crinkle. “I was just really excited to see you. Besides, if I were to be any kind of animal, I'd be a kangaroo. They're cooler and can jump even higher.”

“So coolness is the deciding factor?”

“Obviously.” He responds with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, placing his hands on his hips. “Everyone on our team called Kuramochi-senpai 'cheetah' because he runs really fast, but Furuya and I thought he was more like a weasel.”

Instantly, Shunpei sees Mochi’s disgruntled face in his mind’s eye. He probably had less tattoos and piercings back in college, but Shunpei doesn’t doubt that he was just as intimidating.

With a disgruntled huff, Sawamura continues, “Kuramochi thought 'Weasel-senpai' sounded lame, but he just didn't understand. They're a lot more stealthy than cheetahs—and he's a silent predator who steals bases before the other team even realizes he's gone! He missed out on a golden opportunity for a way cooler nickname.”

“That's a shame,” Shunpei sighs, the timbre of his voice tinged with his mirth. “But I guess ‘tanuki’ stuck well for Miyuki, huh?”

“Because he had no other choice,” Sawamura grumbles. “The world needs to be warned of how much of a sneaky bastard he is. Would you believe that he tricked me—a poor, innocent freshman—on the very first day of practice? I had to run extra laps for three weeks in a row before I could even touch a baseball! Three weeks!”

“Sounds like torture.”

“It was! I’ll never let that jerk live it down, even if he did turn out to be a pretty good battery partner.”

Shunpei wishes he could have seen Sawamura play baseball competitively; even when they were younger, whenever they met up with the other neighborhood kids in the dusty sandlot, Sawamura always played with enthusiasm. 

Bumping his shoulder into Sawamura’s, he says, “So you stayed with pitching?” 

“I did. Miyuki Kazuya was impressed at how well I took care of my hands compared to Furuya. But when I mentioned that it’s because I also play piano, he laughed at me! That time at least, Kuramochi-senpai gave him the beating he deserved for being a jerk.”

Shunpei snorts at the mental image of Mochi pulling a big guy like Miyuki into a headlock. “Those two kinda remind me of Kousei and Atsumu, with the way they’re always bickering with each other. They’re never actually mad at each other, they just don’t know how to communicate.”

And they continue to walk along the trail, sharing little pieces of themselves as the sun sets. It’s peaceful, and Shunpei doesn’t want the moment to end. As they walk, Sawamura’s arm brushes against his, each time sending a shower of sparks all the way to Shunpei’s fingertips. It leaves his palm tingling, leaves him with the briefest desire to swipe his hands across the keys, to reach for the hazy string of unspoken lyrics in his head.

Even though the days are longer, it still doesn't feel like enough time to spend together. Before they know it, the sun has set, and the park's street lamps flicker on to light the walking paths. They continue to walk, enjoying each other’s company with the unspoken sentiment that neither of them want to leave yet.

Sawamura links his pinky with Shunpei’s. “Let’s sit,” he says, pulling them over to a bench. “I brought my headphones, so we can listen to some music together!”

“It just rained,” Shunpei points out, though he still follows, spellbound by Sawamura’s smile. “We'll get wet.”

“This Sawamura Eijun has never let a wet ass stop him before! And neither have you!” 

He lets go of Shunpei’s pinky, bringing his own hands together with a pleased clap. “I got it!” 

Sawamura does the last thing Shunpei expects him to do: he takes off his shirt and places it over the wooden planks on the bench. Sawamura's back muscles are defined, and the constellation of freckles between his shoulder blades seems to dance with his movements. Shunpei swallows hard. 

“Wahaha, I fixed it! Now you don’t have to worry about walking home with a damp rear end.” Sawamura places his hands on his hips, his face flushed with pride in his simple solution. Shunpei’s gaze flickers between Sawamura’s face and the way the bare muscles on his chest and arms flex. He settles on tracing the tan lines on Sawamura’s neck and shoulders, the stark contrast between porcelain white and golden tan striking under the fading early dusk light.

“What is your team going to do if their coach gets sick right before their big game, huh?” Shunpei tuts, shrugging off his windbreaker. “Here, wear this at least. Even though it’s still humid, it gets windier at night.”

He hands his coat over, and Sawamura merely gapes at it for a moment, before accepting it. “Thanks, Shun,” he mutters, before slipping on the coat.

It’s just a simple black windbreaker with red stripes at the collar, but on Sawamura’s wiry athletic frame, with the undone zipper exposing his bare chest, Shunpei can’t help but feel like it was made for Sawamura. Something stirs in Shunpei’s chest when he sees the way the sleeves bunch at Sawamura’s hands, and how loosely the jacket fits him in the shoulders when he finally zips it up.

It looks like a boyfriend jacket. Shunpei likes the way that sounds.

Sawamura makes large, frantic gestures to the bench. “L-let’s sit down! I have some music to share with you as part of my expert plan to bring you inspiration.” Sawamura’s now blushing all the way to his ears as he sits down and digs his phone out of his pants pocket.

“I get to hear more of Ei-chan’s greatest hits?” Shunpei takes the spot next to Sawamura. They both barely fit on the space covered by the shirt, but they fit so naturally together that neither question their proximity. “I remember when you used to replay the same BoA song on your mom’s CD player.”

“And then we’d both lip-sync and dance to it in the kitchen until Gramps kicked us out!” 

As they laugh over this memory, the remnants of hesitation that hung between them before dissolves. 

After wiping the mirthful tears from his eyes, Shunpei decides to tug his face mask down. It’s dark, the park is empty, and his hat covers most of his face, so he allows himself this bit of freedom. “I think that may have been when I first realized I wanted to be an idol,” Shunpei notes. “Because I always imagined that we would be on stage together, having just as much fun.”

With a wistful sigh, Sawamura kicks his feet out. Shunpei can feel the way Sawamura’s thigh muscles flex against his own leg. “Sometimes when I see SPEED on TV, I wonder what it would be like to stand on that stage with you, too.”

Throughout his career, Shunpei had been so focused on taking his group to the top, of living up to the high standards of pop culture, of embodying the persona that he had created for himself, that everything from his life before debuting—from his life as Shunpei—had been shoved to a faraway corner in his mind.

Now that the image is fresh in his mind again, Shunpei wonders what it really would be like if Sawamura were standing beside him on stage.

“Wahaha, but that doesn’t really matter! Back when we were roommates, Furuya always made a point of telling me that I can’t sing very well.” Sawamura shakes his fist. “Shower singing time is sacred! You understand, right? Mochi-senpai would always tell me to shut up whenever I tried to explain this to him.”

How does it feel like Shunpei has experienced all of these moments in Sawamura’s life, too? He’s never even met Furuya properly, yet it feels like he has, with the way Sawamura always speaks about him. And he can almost picture their college dorms, and all of the adventures Sawamura and his friends had gone on during that time.

“Shower singing time is sacred,” he agrees easily, wondering what it would be like to hear Sawamura singing at his most vulnerable, baring his entire heart beneath the endless stream of hot water. “And it’s harder when you’re sharing a living space with so many other people.”

For most of his life, Shunpei has barely had any privacy, except in these small moments he steals with Sawamura.

“Alright Shun,” Sawamura announces, holding out one half of his earbud wire. “Now prepare yourself for Ei-chan’s evolved taste in music! Gone are the days where I listen to the same BoA song on repeat, even though she has the voice of an angel!”

“Blow me away, Ei-chan,” Shunpei hums as he puts in the earbud. 

They both fall silent, and Sawamura starts to play his music. They lean close into each other, enjoying this simple, yet intimate moment. Shunpei had always believed that one of the closest ways to seeing what is written on someone’s heart is through their taste in music. It can say so much about what motivates them, what hardships they’ve gone through, if they’re in love, or if they've ever had their heart broken.

That’s why Shunpei wants so badly to create something that’s closer to his heart, rather than what some corporate entity thinks he should be making.

Predictably, the first few songs they listen to are upbeat pop songs from artists Shunpei knows well. A few alternative rock songs in English also appear on the shuffle, as well as some ballads. The songs are all so different from one another, yet Shunpei feels like fragments of them all are coming together to give him a better look into the beautiful mosaic of Sawamura Eijun’s heart. There’s vitality, longing, hints of struggling through a difficult time, and plenty of joy.

The song they’re listening to ends, the notes fading into a very different beat.

Shunpei turns his head. “You like hip hop, too?”

As Sawamura angles his head to face Shunpei, his body shifts closer into the curve of Shunpei’s. “Yeah! One of my friends in high school introduced me to it, and I’ve liked it ever since. It gets me in the fighting spirit before a baseball game or an exam.”

“Hip hop is good for that,” he agrees, unable to stop smiling, even though at this point his face is starting to hurt. “That’s why I like it, too.”

They’re close enough that the unruly strands of Sawamura’s hair tickle the bare skin at Shunpei’s neck. Shunpei closes his eyes and breathes in. Even through his cloth mask, Shunpei can smell the sweet citrus of Sawamura’s shampoo, which mingles with the dirt, grass, and sweat from the day’s practice. He lets Sawamura’s warmth bleed into him, lets Sawamura’s music speak to him, lets every detail of this moment etch itself into the curves and planes of his heart.

Then, the music stops. 

Sawamura groans as he looks at his dark phone screen.

“It died,” he whines, unplugging the headphone jack from his phone. “Stupid battery.”

Shunpei hands Sawamura back his earbud; even though he regrets that they couldn’t sit like that longer, he does enjoy seeing Sawamura with his cheeks puffed and lip jutted into a pout. It’s too cute, and , oh, he might be a lot more smitten than he had initially thought.

“We can still sit here for a little while,” Shunpei offers, his heart a staccato beat against his ribs. “You did sacrifice your shirt for this, after all.”

In an instant, Sawamura’s pout melts into a pleased smile. “You’re right.” 

And so, with Sawamura fitted perfectly against his side and the fireflies swirling in the air, they continue to talk and enjoy each other’s company. 

All around them, the crickets and cicadas harmonize to create a peaceful summer song; this too reminds Shunpei of those summers in Nagano, of sitting on his grandparents’ engawa with Sawamura and eating popsicles that stained their lips blue.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been able to enjoy a summer night outside like this.”

“Yeah.” Sawamura bumps his knee against Shunpei’s. They’re close enough that their thighs are connected, just like that first time they spoke at the piano bench. It feels right. “With all of my work with grad school, it’s been harder for me to find the time to enjoy these nights, too. I’m usually studying, or writing a report on a guy who died hundreds of years ago.”

“That person had to have done something very exciting.” Shunpei presses his knee back against Sawamura’s. 

“Not enough to make me write a ten page essay on it. In English! That’s like, double the work, because I have to think it in Japanese first and then translate it.”

“I’m sure they have a reason for that.” Shunpei shrugs as much as he can with Sawamura’s added weight against him. “Probably.”

“Yeah, to make me miserable,” he mutters, nudging himself a little closer into Shunpei’s side to adjust for those small movements.

They fall into comfortable silence. Shunpei pulls his mask down to his chin, relishing the feeling of fresh air on his face. He then looks up at the empty night sky, and he wishes he could see the endless smattering of stars in the night sky in Nagano once again. 

“I miss being able to see the stars,” Shunpei admits in a subdued tone. “But I've lived without seeing them for so long that I’m not even sure if it’s worth coming back to.”

“They’ll always be here waiting for you.” 

Shunpei turns to face Sawamura, who’s looking at him with a gentle smile. The dreamy glow from the streetlamps makes Sawamura look almost ethereal. “The stars. These summer nights,” Sawamura clarifies. “And whatever else it is that you may have left behind. It’s never too late to slow down and come back to something that once brought you joy. You just have to live life tempo rubato.”

That’s a term Shunpei hasn’t heard since he took piano lessons as a young boy. “What do you mean by that?”

The warm hues of Sawamura’s eyes shine even brighter. “You know what it translates to, right?”

After thinking for a moment, Shunpei remembers. “Stolen time.”

“Yeah,” Sawamura confirms. “Tempo rubato means you have the freedom to set the pace of your song as you play, to steal back the time lost to the music's strict rules.”

A firefly sparks to life right in front of Sawamura’s nose, and he smiles as it floats away.

“What I mean is that you don’t always have to follow the music as it’s written on the page. If things get too fast, you have the power to slow down until you’re ready to push forward again.”

“That’s…” Shunpei struggles to find the right words at this moment, but he's so awestruck by Sawamura that he can’t speak.

The mild evening breeze ruffles the small wisps of Sawamura’s fringe. Shunpei lifts his hand, pushes the unruly hair out of Sawamura’s eyes. Sawamura sighs from the contact and tilts his head forward to encourage more. So, Shunpei lets his fingertips trace Sawamura’s temple, lets the silky strands of Sawamura’s hair pass between his fingers, stopping finally at the curve of Sawamura’s nape.

Their foreheads are touching—a warm, gentle press of skin. Shunpei isn’t sure if the thump-thump that rings in his ears is from his heart or Sawamura’s, isn’t sure if there’s even really a difference between the two anymore. 

Anticipating, Sawamura’s lips part, and Shunpei starts to tilt his head a little closer. He can feel Sawamura’s breath over his lips, and Shunpei all but melts.

The jarring ringtone reserved specifically for Todoroki Raizou on Shunpei’s phone startles both Shunpei and Sawamura out of the moment, and they fall back.

Shunpei knows he can’t ignore this call, because Todoroki-san has been hinting all week that Shunpei needs to make a decision. Soon.

With a frustrated sigh, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. Ignoring the slight tremble in his hands, he types out a quick message to his manager, saying he will return the call as soon as he can.

“I have to go,” Shunpei explains, mustering all of his willpower to leave the comfort of Sawamura’s side and stand up. “Even though I don’t want to leave, I can’t ignore this.”

“What about your windbreaker?” Sawamura asks as he tugs at the too-long sleeves.

“You can keep it.” Shunpei inhales sharply as he takes one last look at Sawamura’s form, his wide eyes, his full lips. “It looks better on you, anyway,” he whispers, bending down to place a chaste kiss against Sawamura’s temple—the barest brush of skin.

With the barest touch of Sawamura’s skin still tingling on his lips, Shunpei leaves.

🎶

“Wow, this place is packed,” Kousei notes with a whistle, which his mask muffles. “That means it’s gonna be a good game, right?”

Raichi grins. “I wanna see someone hit a ball out of the park!”

“They’re young kids, so we won’t be seeing anything crazy,” Shunpei says with an amused chuckle, adjusting his sunglasses. “But it’s still going to be a great game. Sawamura knows what he’s doing.”

Standing by the bottom of the bleachers, Mochi spots Shunpei and waves. He’s wearing a sleeveless shirt, which puts all of his vibrant tattoos on display; it isn’t difficult to pick him out of the crowd.

Surprisingly, Mochi isn’t with Miyuki, but instead a serious-looking man with short-cropped blond hair. They walk over to Shunpei and his groupmates, weaving through the gaggle of young kids who are running around the playing grounds.

“Yo,” Mochi greets with a wide grin. “Good to see you made it. Sawamura hasn’t shut up about you all coming for the whole week.” He then waves to Raichi and Kousei. “I’m Mochi and this is my buddy Shirasu. If ya stick with us and try not to yell too much, you’ll be fine here.”

Shirasu nods. “Nice to meet you.”

Like he usually does in front of new people, Raichi sticks close to Shunpei’s side. He’s gotten better with public appearances in more recent years, but it still takes some time for Raichi to warm up to a group. “Hi,” he mutters with a small wave. 

“Whoa dude,” Kousei gasps, taking a step closer to Mochi. This has the very real possibility of ending badly, depending on what Kousei says next. Shunpei braces himself for the worst. “Those piercings are sick. I want to get a stud on my eyebrow too, but Todoroki-san won’t let me.”

“Thanks, dude. That was my first piercing, actually. Got it when I was seventeen without telling anyone,” Mochi cackles. “Better to ask for forgiveness than for permission.”

“Don’t give him any ideas,” Shunpei warns, serious even though he’s grinning. “Because I’m the one who won’t hear the end of it if he gets in trouble with management.”

Mochi puts his hands up in the air placatingly. “Fair enough. I was kind of a bratty kid, anyway. The game’s just about to start, so let’s head over.”

Mochi and Shirasu lead them over to the stands, where they take their seats in a quiet corner near the top. As Sawamura had already warned, the parents are all toward the bottom of the bleachers or standing on the grass closest to the diamond, all ready with their cameras to capture their kids in action.

Watching Sawamura Eijun coach the young kids with such ease and enthusiasm makes Shunpei happy. He’s glowing, enjoying every moment on the diamond with his team. The children treat Sawamura with so much respect, so much reverence, taking every instruction and encouragement to heart. 

And Sawamura makes sure that his voice is heard. He cheers the loudest out of everyone else in the park, making sure every member of his team feels motivated and setting the lighthearted mood of the game. Even the opponents enjoy the silly banter that Sawamura engages in with the rival coach, as well as the ridiculous cheers he shouts from the dugout. 

After a few innings, the group decides that they need to stretch their legs and get out of the sun for a little bit. 

With a loud yawn, Kousei stretches his arms in the air. “I’m starving. Is there food here?” 

“I can show you where the concession stand is,” Shirasu says with a small nod. 

“I want a banana popsicle!” Raichi interjects, clapping his hands. “Do you want anything, Nada-senpai?”

“I’m good.”

Kousei links arms with Raichi. They're both exuding a ridiculous amount of excitement. “What are we waiting for?”

“We’ll be back,” Shirasu explains curtly, and they all walk off.

Now, Shunpei’s left alone with Mochi, whose demeanor has suddenly changed to something much more threatening. His bare biceps bulge as he crosses his arms over his chest and his eyes narrow; he looks like a predator.

“I can tell there's something more than just a childhood friends reconnecting thing happening between you two,” Mochi drawls in a cold tone. “Sawamura's a real romantic at heart, and he falls hard.”

Even though Shunpei’s almost an entire head taller, Mochi feels much bigger than him at this moment. Shunpei swallows hard. “I don’t give a shit if you’re one of Japan’s treasures or whatever. If you hurt Sawamura or take advantage of him in any way, I won’t hesitate to kick your ass into the next century.” A menacing shadow falls over Mochi’s face. “Got it?”

Whatever Shunpei says next could very well sour his relationship with Seidou Grind. It could mean the end of whatever may have started to grow between him and Sawamura. Shunpei doesn’t want to lose any of them.

“Sawamura means a lot to me,” Shunpei admits, holding Mochi’s gaze. He refuses to falter. “Now that he’s back in my life, I want to keep him here. Even if my schedule becomes crazy and things might be hard in the future, I want to try. Because if our roles were reversed, I know he would do the same for me.”

For what feels like an eternity, Mochi stays silent. His calculating gaze pierces right through Shunpei—but that’s fine, because Shunpei doesn’t have anything to hide.

“Well said,” Mochi acknowledges with a curt nod, still regarding Shunpei with a menacing aura. Then, his posture relaxes, and he claps Shunpei on the shoulder. “It's nothing personal. Just gotta cover all the bases, y'know. Sawamura's like family to me and Kazuya.”

“He’s lucky to have people like you in his life who look out for him.” 

“It's hard to not care about him,” Mochi sighs. “He’s got a heart of gold.”

“I understand.” So many memories float through Shunpei’s mind, new and old, of small moments of Sawamura’s kindness, of his genuine interest in others, of the ways he sees the beauty in even the simplest things. “And I’m grateful. For all of you.”

Just as quickly as the atmosphere between them had turned ominous, it once again returns to their companionable norm. 

A moment later, Kousei comes skidding to a stop beside them, breathless as Raichi trails behind. “Shit dude, Todoroki-san just texted and said he’s parked outside.”

Raichi reads from his phone with a frown. “There was a change in the schedule and they need us there sooner.”

“I didn’t even get to eat my popsicle,” Kousei whines.

Shunpei nods in understanding. “It can’t be helped. You can still eat it on the walk over.” 

He tells Mochi and Shirasu that he’ll meet them at the bleachers, then accompanies his groupmates over to Todoroki-san’s car. 

As they’re walking, Kousei waves his melting popsicle. “That Mochi guy is a little scary. Did you do something to piss him off?”

Shunpei rolls his eyes. “No, but I was worried you were going to more than once today. I was ready to dump your body behind the concession stand.”

“I wasn’t being rude!” he pouts. “I was just trying to make conversation. Besides, I could probably take him in a fight.”

As they approach, Todoroki-san rolls down the tinted car window.

“Oi, it’s time to go,” Todoroki-san calls out. “If you’re late to makeup again, they’ll have all of our asses.”

“Alright, see ya later dude.” Kousei mumbles around his popsicle stick.

“Bye, senpai! Tell us how the rest of the game goes later. I wanna know who wins!”

Shunpei waves goodbye, and heads back to rejoin Mochi and Shirasu. Even at this point in the late afternoon, the summer Tokyo sun is unforgiving. Shunpei can feel the exposed skin on his arms burning, though he hates the idea of putting his jacket on even more. He can’t even imagine what it must feel like for those who are playing on the field—and for Sawamura, who has probably been doing just as much, if not more, running around this entire time.

Gray clouds start to roll over the sky around the seventh inning, mercifully blocking some of the sun’s harsh rays. The rest of the game flies by, thanks to the enthusiasm of the young players and their supportive audience. 

In the end, Sawamura’s team emerges victorious by a single run.

Shirasu had left just before the game ended, explaining that something came up for his job that he needs to tend to. So, it’s just Shunpei and Mochi who make their way down the bleachers to greet Sawamura.

But the crowd of excited parents and their kids makes it impossible to reach Sawamura. Shunpei and Mochi let the proud players have this time with their teammates and families, instead falling behind and making small talk. After a few minutes, Mochi checks his phone.

“Looks like Kazuya’s already waiting for me back at our place. He just finished food prep for the weekend, so now he wants to be lazy and watch some new documentary that just came out.” 

“You don’t help him with any of the prep?” 

Rolling his eyes, Mochi shakes his head. “Bastard’s very particular when it comes to his food, and won’t let anyone else help. Typical control freak catcher.” He snorts, and Shunpei finds himself suppressing a chuckle from the name, too. “So I just find other ways to help him out and make sure he doesn’t work his ass into the ground. He’s been this way for as long as I can remember.”

For some reason, this information doesn’t surprise Shunpei. He admires Miyuki’s work ethic, as well as the way Mochi gives his partner this freedom, but also meets Miyuki halfway. 

What they have is special, and it makes something stir in Shunpei’s heart, too.

It makes him feel hopeful for a life that could be, but it also makes him feel restless—thinking of the future and how the person he cares about the most will fit into it. Seeing how easily Mochi and Miyuki exist together, Shunpei wishes even more for what’s budding between him and Sawamura to grow.

“Enjoy the rest of your afternoon,” Shunpei says with a small wave. “And tell the control freak I said hello.”

“Kyahaha, will do! Thanks again for coming, dude.” Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Mochi gives one final wave before walking through the gaggle of people. Shunpei exhales as he watches Mochi leave, letting everything from the day wash over him. Even with the unexpected confrontation, Shunpei had a lot of fun with everyone today. It was nice to be able to spend time with Mochi outside of Seidou Grind and learn more about his interests. 

The crowd by the diamond slowly thins out as the kids and their parents finish taking pictures. Sawamura meets Shunpei’s gaze and beams, waving him over.

Spellbound, Shunpei pushes past the fence and walks onto the panked-down dirt around the diamond, where Sawamura meets him with a hug.

“I’m happy you were able to make it,” Sawamura mumbles into Shunpei’s shoulder. His grip is tight, but Shunpei doesn’t care. He wraps his arms around Sawamura, too, and enjoys the way their bodies fit together.

“It was amazing to see you work with your team. Kousei and Raichi enjoyed themselves, too.”

“Really?” The joyous tone in Sawamura’s voice makes Shunpei’s heart feel so full, too. “I’m glad you all had fun today.”

“They’ll be happy to hear that you won.”

Neither of them want to let go, so they stand like this in each other’s arms for another beat before reluctantly breaking apart. 

“Now let me hear all the details about your day here, Shun!” Sawamura demands. There seem to be even more freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose now. Shunpei wonders what they’d feel like under his fingertips. “And don’t hold back with your praise for the winning team’s coach, either.”

“That coach was pretty amazing, wasn’t he?” Shunpei plays along, because he loves the way Sawamura’s cheeks flush when he’s praised, and enjoys even more how the pink hue contrasts against these new galaxies of freckles. “He knows a lot about baseball, works well with his team, and has a very loud cheering voice.”

“I need to make sure they know I have their backs!” he defends, his blush now creeping up to his ears. There’s a tense pitch to his voice, and Shunpei isn’t sure if it’s from embarrassment, or from something else. “The best way to do that is to make sure they hear my words loud and clear.”

They continue to banter from their quiet spot on the diamond, until they’re the only two left in the entire playing field.

“Let’s play catch-ball.” Sawamura bends down to grab the bag he threw aside before greeting the excited group of parents. “I happen to have two mitts on me today.”

“Just by coincidence, huh?” Shunpei angles his head to look into the bag, but Sawamura tugs it closer to his chest with a small pout.

“I really wanted to play catch ball with you just like we used to.” Sawamura pulls both mitts out, then throws his backpack onto the dirt behind home plate. “And today seemed like the perfect opportunity, since we’d both already be here at the diamond.”

Even though he takes the mitt from Sawamura’s outstretched hand, Shunpei arches an eyebrow. “Well that doesn’t seem very fair. You’ve had years of experience playing on a team since we've last played together.”

“You don’t need to think too hard about it. Just throw to my mitt, and I’ll throw to yours.”

“Treat me well, Ei-chan,” Shunpei relents, though he’s just as excited as Sawamura to play.

They throw the ball back and forth at a leisurely pace. The way the ball smacks into the leather glove fills Shunpei with pleasant nostalgia. In this moment, they don’t need to talk, because their words come through with every arc of the baseball through the air.

Sawamura throws again, but this time the ball abruptly cuts away just as it's about to hit Shunpei's mitt. The baseball lands with a thud into the grass and rolls away from Shunpei's feet.

“The baseball isn’t supposed to move like that.” Shunpei squints at Sawamura. “Did you do that on purpose?”

The way he giggles in response gives Shunpei all the information he needs. 

“I don’t know, did I?”

Shunpei takes a step closer. “What happened to I’ll throw to your mitt? ”

“I did!” Sawamura insists with an impish grin. “But I might have also decided that I want to make you work a little harder.”

“Bossy bossy,” Shunpei tuts, closing the distance between them with one final stride. He grins down at Sawamura, enjoying the way the apples of Sawamura’s cheeks darken even more. “Ei-kantoku.”

Sawamura holds his gaze, batting his eyelashes as his lips curl into a coquettish grin. But Shunpei knows how to play this game too, so he rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, keeping his smoldering gaze focused on Sawamura.

Immediately, Sawamura’s gaze drops to Shunpei’s lips. Shunpei’s heartbeat thunders in his chest, and his desire to go further crackles like lightning between them. He tenses his muscles, ready to make a move when something wet falls on his forehead. 

A handful of fat raindrops splatter onto the dirt at their feet, a brief warning before the sky opens up, and heavy rain pours down on them. Shunpei shucks off his jacket and pulls Sawamura into his side, holding the flimsy material over them for cover.

“To the dugout!” Sawamura instructs, pointing in its direction. The rain blows into Shunpei’s face, blurring his vision and stinging his eyes as he runs in tandem with Sawamura. They somehow make it to the cover of the dugout without tripping, but they’re both breathless from their run.

Shunpei blinks the rain from his eyes, and the next thing he knows, Sawamura’s pulling the jacket from his hands. Keeping eye contact with Shunpei as he does so, Sawamura drapes the sopping wet jacket over his shoulders. He places his hands on his hips and flashes a cheesy smile, even as rainwater continues to drip down his face. His curls are now stuck flat to his head, and his baseball uniform sticks to his frame; Shunpei’s sure he looks just as silly with the way his clothes now stick awkwardly to his skin.

They look at each other, both soaked, and burst into full-bellied laughter. Something about the silliness and the simplicity of this moment reminds Shunpei of the summers they shared so many years earlier. 

But now it’s a bit different; there’s something else charged in the air between them—something more like that night not too long ago, where they opened their hearts to each other on the park bench.

Shunpei finds his gaze fixed on Sawamura’s lips and how his tongue darts out to swipe away the rainwater. He follows the curves of Sawamura’s cupid’s bow, and finds himself enraptured by the way Sawamura’s lips part as he gets ready to speak, unsure if he’ll ever be able to look away.

”I’m keeping this jacket, too.” 

Sawamura’s lips curl into a sly grin. There’s a small freckle right at the corner of his mouth, too. So faint that it can be mistaken for a shadow or a stray rain drop.

Shunpei leans closer, his entire body surging with restless energy. “You’re going to have to pay for this one.” Their noses now just barely brush against each other. He inhales through his nose, prepares his singing voice. “Eijun.”

The name drips like honey in Shunpei’s velvety tone, and he relishes in the way Sawamura’s pupils blow wide from hearing his given name spoken like that.

“I can do that,” Sawamura breathes. He places a hand on Shunpei’s waist, grounding them both to this moment. Then, he tilts his head and leans forward. Sawamura hesitates just over Shunpei’s lips for a fraction of a second—because after this moment they’ll no longer just be friends. 

But Shunpei places his hand over Sawamura’s on his waist, his way of saying, Whatever happens next, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours.

The first brush of their lips is short, but there’s so much weight behind it that it leaves them both breathless. The next is more purposeful, as they both carefully explore the shape of each other’s mouths. The third grows more greedy, as they tease with teeth and tongue. They move at the same tempo, creating their own perfect dance alongside the melody of the rainfall. 

When Shunpei tries to pull back, lungs seeking air, Sawamura chases his lips; and Shunpei lets him. Once, twice, their lips meet again, and then Shunpei places his palm flat against Sawamura’s chest and tilts his head away just enough so he can catch his breath, so he can commit every detail of this moment to memory before his mind plunges into a complete haze.

“I might need just a little more convincing,” he quips, enjoying the way Sawamura’s eyes gleam with the challenge placed in front of him.

Without any hesitation this time, Sawamura bunches his fist in the collar of Shunpei’s shirt and pulls him back. “I never do things half-assed, Shun,” he mutters, before stealing another languid kiss.

Approval rumbling in his throat, Shunpei lets his hand travel up Sawamura’s spine, teases his fingers at the nape of Sawamura’s neck before letting them tangle in his hair. Shunpei deepens their kiss, enjoying the simple give and take, and the feeling of Sawamura melting into him. He can feel small drops of water trickling down the slope of his neck and the fervent pressure of Sawamura’s hand on his side.

Something beautiful starts to unfurl in Shunpei’s heart, and he lets his whole self embrace it.

The summer rain has never sounded so sweet, its notes ringing clear over the tin roof of the dugout.

🎶

After that baseball game, the world around Shunpei seems more vibrant, more full of life.

Being with Sawamura fills Shunpei with curiosity, with energy and love—all the things he's been missing without even realizing it. He wants to keep chasing this feeling, wants to let what they have grow. 

Even if it means their relationship would have to be kept a secret from the public, Shunpei would make these sacrifices if it means he can hold Eijun in his arms. Shunpei’s heart screams to dive headfirst into a relationship with Sawamura and let their hearts guide them, but he wants to do things right.

Shunpei also intends to keep the promise he made to Mochi to treat Sawamura right, so he spends the rest of the week reflecting on his career as an idol, researching Yakushi’s dating policies, and figuring out how to put all of his feelings into the right words.

By the time Shunpei walks into Seidou Grind, he has a clear plan. He sits in his usual spot, pulls out his script, and enjoys the latest Mochi creation while Sawamura’s music fills the room.

The day doesn’t end fast enough.

When the last customer files out the door, Shunpei takes off his disguise and finds his way over to the piano. Sawamura pulls him into a hug, this time lingering longer than usual, with his nose pressed into the crook of Shunpei’s neck. The warmth shared between them is nice, and Shunpei doesn’t even think when he lifts his hand to card it through Sawamura’s soft hair.

After a few moments, Mochi clears his throat. 

Sawamura startles from the unexpected noise, pulling back from their embrace to blink owlishly at his senpai.

“No funny business in here, got it?” Mochi’s eyes narrow, still somehow glinting menacingly under the shop’s incandescent lights.

“N-no need to worry!” Sawamura’s face is redder than the russet brick walls, and his pupils have narrowed to tiny slits. Shunpei can’t help but smile; he's so incredibly charmed by every little aspect of his childhood friend. “This Sawamura Eijun will respect your hallowed coffee establishment.”

But when Sawamura bows a perfect ninety degrees, Miyuki bursts into booming laughter. It progresses until he bends forward, clutching his stomach as his nasally bellows fill the room. Mochi’s high-pitched guffaws join soon after, slinging an arm over Miyuki’s shoulder and doubling over as well.

“I’m serious!” Sawamura bristles, pointing an indignant finger at his senpai. “But if you’re gonna laugh at me, I take it back.”

Not even Sawamura’s threat gets through to the cackling couple. Shunpei places his palm over the small of Eijun’s back. “I don’t think there’s any getting through to them when they’re like this.”

Sawamura snorts in mock-annoyance, but his posture loosens a bit more.

Only when Mochi and Miyuki leave, arm-in-arm and snickering among themselves, do Shunpei and Sawamura take their spots at the piano bench. Sawamura reaches for Shunpei’s hand and places it atop his thigh, interlacing their fingers. Shunpei sighs, letting the comforting warmth from their touch settle over him. 

“We should talk more about what we are.” He runs his free hand over the smooth wood  of Fortissimo. “About our expectations and what we want in the future. If this is something you even want—”

Sawamura cuts Shunpei off before he can continue. “I do.” His tone is firm and rings with such certainty that it nearly leaves Shunpei breathless. “I want us.”

“I do too.” Shunpei licks his lips, letting the words that have tumbled all day in his head finally come forward. “Since I’m twenty-five, management is more open to the idea of letting me date. I didn’t give them any details about us, but regardless we’re going to have to be careful in public and keep the details of our relationship private. For our safety.”

Sawamura nods. “I don’t need the whole world to know that I’m dating you if it means you get put in danger. As long as I get to be with you, I’m happy.” 

With their hands clasped together between them, they lay bare their hearts, unraveling all of their feelings, their hopes and expectations for their futures. They pledge to meet each other halfway, wherever that may be. And like tempo rubato, they will slow down or speed up if they need to, grow with the push and pull of their careers, of each other.

To seal their promises, Shunpei lifts their intertwined hands and presses a tender kiss right over the tendons of Sawamura's.

“I’ll always keep you close to my heart,” he vows, his sincere emotions thick in his voice. “Not even distance or time can steal us away from each other. Not this time. Not ever.”

“Me too, Shun.” And Sawamura smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He’s always so full of life, so full of love. “Always.”

They part ways that night feeling lighter, hopeful.

🎶

Dating Sawamura feels natural, feels right. Even though their schedules don’t always line up, they figure out creative ways to communicate: snapshots of their days through pictures, sending small packages with their favorite candies and cute Shin-chan figurines they find in Daiso, or leaving a hand-written note at Seidou Grind for Mochi to deliver. Slowly, they learn more about each other, and about the other people in their lives who are important to them.

The first time Shunpei takes Sawamura to the SPEED dorms to properly meet his groupmates— his family —the dorm explodes into a flurry of activity Shunpei has never seen before. Kousei, Shouyou, and Atsumu immediately welcome Sawamura, pulling him into a round of Mario Kart. Even shy Raichi warms up to Sawamura. They spend at least thirty minutes talking about their favorite baseball players, which warms Shunpei’s heart to see. 

And when they all cram together in the kitchen to eat their takeout dinner, Shunpei thinks the dorm has never felt more like home.

It’s a relief to see how much his groupmates also like Sawamura, and how much Sawamura also likes them. Kousei asks for Sawamura’s and Mochi’s LINE information. Atsumu starts saving the bottle caps from his drinks that have the fun facts on them because Sawamura had mentioned that he likes reading them. Raichi and Shouyou beg Shunpei to bring Sawamura to their weekly DEAD/UNDEAD watch party because they want to discuss show theories with him.

It’s on these nights that Shunpei learns that Sawamura is afraid of zombies and that he has a very strong grip. But his shampoo smells like sweet citrus and lemongrass, and it lingers on Shunpei’s clothes for the rest of the night.

More time passes, and Shunpei starts to understand why he has been struggling so much with his music.

His revelation doesn't come in some magical a-ha moment like they do in movies and dramas. Instead, it comes to him as he's walking the familiar route back to the dorms from Seidou Grind. He takes a look at the silly message scrawled on the side of the cup by Miyuki and smiles.

And, like the easy inhale that comes after first waking up, his answer becomes clear:

Shunpei wants to make others smile. 

Like Mochi and Miyuki do with each cup of coffee they make. Like Sawamura does with his teaching and coaching. Like the passionate producers of DEAD/UNDEAD and the rest of the cast. 

Like his groupmates.

Shunpei’s reason for creating music doesn’t have to be complicated or profound; he just wants to be able to express himself freely, wants his true voice to be what helps uplift and inspire others. Ace isn’t just a mask, but an extension of the complex facets of Sanada Shunpei. He shouldn’t worry so much about conforming to expectations—Shunpei just needs to be his most authentic self.

And, most importantly, Shunpei's not alone in any of this.

He has come to understand that he doesn’t have to shoulder so many responsibilities all by himself. His groupmates have grown so much since they first debuted. They all have blossomed into incredible, kind, and passionate artists.

They're a team—they're family. And they stick together.

So, when he returns to the dorm after recording, Shunpei asks his groupmates if they want to sing.

“Let me go grab my guitar,” Kousei requests, already shuffling down the hallway and nearly tripping over his feet with excitement. “Be right back!”

When he returns, Shunpei, Shouyou, and Raichi have finished their warm-up vocal drills. 

Buzzing with excitement, Kousei taps his hand against his guitar, creating an easy rhythm on the hollow wood that echoes through the common room. He seamlessly incorporates this beat into his strumming; to Shunpei, it sounds like the rhythm of his heart—natural, steady, familiar. This is one of SPEED’s first songs, deconstructed into a slower, more mellow tempo.

Shunpei’s lines are first. He wipes his clammy hands on his pants and inhales slowly, letting Kousei’s rhythm flow through him. Raichi and Shouyou both have matching grins, the spirited sparkle in their eyes glimmering just as bright. They don’t look at Shunpei like they expect anything of him, other than to enjoy himself.

He’s free to express himself the way he wants to—the way he’s always wanted to.

So, he takes the jump. 

The words don’t get stuck in Shunpei’s throat. They flow freely, the vibratos between each syllable filling the room. And when Shouyou picks up with his verse, Shunpei’s left feeling electrified. He shares a look with Raichi, and the first thought that comes to Shunpei’s mind is this is fun.

In the middle of their impromptu song, Atsumu returns. Without skipping a beat, he kicks off his shoes and joins everyone else in the common room, accompanying their music with some freestyle beatboxing. 

Like this, they all sing and dance and laugh. 

Only when their stomachs start to rumble do they break away, moving to the kitchen to continue singing silly songs together while Shunpei and Shouyou cook dinner.

Later in the evening, Shunpei finds a moment to himself and makes his way out to the balcony. His blood still thrums to the beat of the music he and his groupmates created earlier. It makes him feel rejuvenated. Hopeful.

Shunpei wants to share that feeling. He pulls out his phone and pulls up Sawamura’s profile. While the phone call goes through, Shunpei smiles at Sawamura’s contact picture: it’s a close-up of an old polaroid of them as kids. They’re standing with their arms linked in front of Sawamura’s family home covered in splatters of mud, both smiling brightly.

“Shun!” Sawamura greets, affection clear in the mellisonant tones of his voice. 

And Shunpei feels it just as much in his own heart, too.

“Tell me about your day.”

The colorful city lights twinkle below him, almost as captivating as the stories Sawamura starts to weave about his lectures, the sandwich shop he visited for lunch, and his classmate-slash-musical nemesis Narumiya Mei.

🎶

The leaves in Tokyo change color, painting the sidewalks with splotches of yellow, scarlet, and burnt orange. Shunpei finds that jumping through piles of crunchy leaves alongside Sawamura is just as fun as trampling through mud puddles in the summer. But there are things about this time of year that Shunpei enjoys more. He likes brushing the stray leaves out of Sawamura’s hair, likes being able to wrap his scarf around Sawamura’s neck on the colder days, likes the taste of pumpkin and nutmeg on Sawamura’s lips, and the way they fit perfectly against each other on the couch in Sawamura’s cozy apartment.

Before Shunpei knows it, the end of autumn approaches, along with the final days of filming for DEAD/UNDEAD. 

Reaching the end of the drama now feels bittersweet, because Shunpei has come to care for his castmates and all of the kind staff on set. He even feels attached to the role he took on: the brave human Ivan, who has dedicated his life to avenging his fallen brother. After this, he’ll have a few more months of promotional events for the drama as the rest of it continues to air into the new year.

Before then, he needs to make a decision—one that no longer seems quite as scary as it did earlier in the year.

On one quiet evening, Shunpei and Sawamura find the time to walk hand-in-hand in the park. The sun has set long ago and there’s a heavy chill in the air, but it doesn’t feel as bad when he’s next to Sawamura.

The leaves and gravel crunch beneath their feet, and only the quiet song of the fall crickets surrounds them.

“I think I’m starting to figure things out,” Shunpei says, and more of the tangled strings in his heart start to come loose. 

All this time, the only thing holding Shunpei back was himself. It wasn’t just Sawamura who helped him realize this, but also Mochi and Miyuki, who have all carved out their own paths—deviating from the expectations of others and followed their true calling.

Sawamura’s hand twitches within Shunpei’s, hopeful excitement crackling on his palm. “Yeah?”

Shunpei inhales, letting the crisp air settle in his lungs. Then, he leans a little closer into Sawamura’s shoulder, feeling his heart flutter when he catches the faint aroma of Sawamura’s shampoo.

“Let’s pick a date for that duet.”

🎶

Even with the comforting aroma of roasted coffee and cinnamon enveloping him, and Sawamura’s warmth pressed against his side, the tempo of Shunpei’s heart continues to increase. He tells himself he’s not nervous. He just wants to live up to his expectations, wants to be able to feel that spark he had held onto for a fleeting moment when he sang with his groupmates in the middle of their dorm. 

Shunpei wants to make the people sitting before him proud. Raichi, Kousei, Atsumu, Shouyou, Mochi, and Miyuki—who are all here in the shop after hours, and have made time to witness this moment and support Shunpei.

“Hey, Shun...Remember back when I couldn’t even play with both hands?”

Sawamura is a lefty. When they were kids, it was difficult—nearly impossible, actually—for Shunpei to teach Sawamura how to coordinate his right hand. 

One day Sawamura was so frustrated that he couldn't play a whole song that Shunpei decided to help. Sitting side by side on the piano bench, Shunpei grabbed Sawamura's left hand and placed it on the keys, while Shunpei placed his own right hand a bit further down. In that moment, he realized that Sawamura had two dark freckles on the knuckle of his index finger—a star for him, and a star for Shunpei.

“I do,” Shunpei responds, feeling nostalgic from the flood of memories. “You played with your left hand, and I played with my right.”

Then, in unison, they say, “‘That way we made one whole person at the piano.’”

Sawamura presses his forehead against Shunpei’s, and they laugh.

“All right you two,” Mochi calls out from his table, sounding just as exasperated as he is fond. “Enough with the disgusting kissy faces. We’re all waiting for you to play.”

“They aren’t kissy faces!” Sawamura insists, his eyes narrowing comically. “Besides, Miyuki Kazuya said you wouldn’t know romance if it hit you in the face.”

“Did he?” Mochi’s expression darkens. “Guess that means someone’s gonna need a romantic kick in the ass.”

“Kinky,” Miyuki retorts with a smug grin. When Mochi cracks his knuckles threateningly, Miyuki chuckles and holds his hands up. “You can’t be mad at me for that. It took you years to figure out I was flirting with you.”

“Yeah, because your flirting sucked!”

Shouyou nearly chokes from holding back his laughter. Atsumu and Kousei, however, both have their heads thrown back with braying cackles. While Mochi and Miyuki continue to squabble, Sawamura places a hand on Shunpei’s knee.

“Let’s play tempo rubato,” he says, a challenge glimmering in the golden flecks of his irises. “You follow my lead, and I’ll follow yours.”

Shunpei’s heart soars. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They place their hands over the keys. Fortissimo seems to mirror their anticipation, its ivory keys glowing under the soft cafe lights.

“Oshi! Esteemed guests, please prepare for our specially curated song!”

After one final snicker from Mochi and Miyuki, now both at Sawamura’s expense, the audience falls silent. 

Shunpei and Sawamura exchange one final heartfelt glance, and they start to play. 

They start off slow, allowing time to feel out each other’s style before they let themselves blend together. It almost feels like they’re dancing around one another; an intimate tango with sound instead of movement. Sharing the piano this way feels like they’re reaching into the deepest parts of each other’s souls—pushing deeper, deeper, deeper until they too start to meld together. Their pace picks up naturally during this exhilarating chase, filling the room with their ambition, their passion.

It’s incredible. 

Shunpei doesn’t want this song—this moment—to end. For so many years, Sawamura had looked up to Shunpei. But Shunpei is just as inspired, just as dazzled by Sawamura’s talents and drive. Sitting beside Sawamura like this pushes Shunpei to want to do better, makes him want to create the best music he can. 

As they reach the final bridge of their song, Shunpei realizes that he may have always been a little bit in love with Sawamura Eijun. From the very beginning they fit so naturally with each other, perfect complements. 

The final notes fade, and everyone in the room breaks out into applause.

“Go Nada-senpai!” Raichi cheers. “You both were really cool!”

Shouyou slings an arm over Raichi’s shoulder, radiating just as much admiration and excitement. “The coolest!” he adds.

Beaming, Shunpei and Sawamura walk arm-in-arm over to the tables, where steaming mugs of coffee and delicious pastries await them. It looks like Mochi made them each their favorite drinks, which makes Shunpei smile even wider. After they take their seats, Sawamura finds Shunpei’s hand under the table. They interlace their fingers; it feels right.

“Thanks again for being my taste-testers.” Miyuki says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sometimes it gets difficult for me and Mochi to try everything by ourselves, so we appreciate the help.”

Atsumu nods in understanding, his cheeks full of pastry. “Samu’s like that too with his shop. If ya ever need a taste-tester again, give me a call and I’ll gladly help.”

“Samu-san is Tsum-tsum’s twin, by the way,” Shouyou explains while Atsumu continues to eat. “He owns an onigiri shop, and he always sends us really cool recipes to try! I used to be really awful at cooking, but with Samu-san’s and Nada-senpai’s help, I've gotten better.” 

“It’s Onigiri Miya, right?” Sawamura asks, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Some of my classmates were talking about it the other day.”

“Yep,” Atsumu hums. Pastry crumbs stick to the corners of his mouth, and a smear of chocolate has also somehow ended up on his cheek. “He opened a branch here in Tokyo not too long ago.”

“No shit,” Mochi cuts in. He nods at Miyuki. “We just ate there last week. Best onigiri I ever had.”

Shunpei notices that Miyuki deflates a little at this comment, and can hear him mumble, “I make really good onigiri, too.” 

Mochi elbows Miyuki in the side, causing his glasses to go askew.

“The cat’s sleeping in your spot tonight,” Miyuki hisses, rubbing his side. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Mochi fires back with a self-satisfied smirk. “And when your sorry ass finds me on the couch at three AM ‘cuz you're too cold, I’m just gonna roll over and go back to sleep.”

It takes every ounce of Shunpei's willpower to bite back his laughter. Even though Mochi and Miyuki are about the same age as Shunpei, those two argue like they're an old married couple. It's both endearing and hilarious.

Raichi hasn't stopped looking at Fortissimo; he must be eager to play, or to sing. “Do you play here all the time, Eijun-kun?” 

Sawamura shakes his head. “School has been busier, so I haven't been able to spend as much time here. But fear not!” He flashes a toothy grin, which makes Raichi's eyes twinkle with admiration. “Very soon, Seidou Grind will have the pleasure of hearing music from Fortissimo every day of the week once again. Asada-shounen and Okumura-shounen will be playing on the days I can’t come in.”

“Those students of yours have come a long way,” Mochi points out, the barest hint of pride in his expression. “I really thought Okumura was gonna flip a table when you first started working with him.”

“We even made bets,” Miyuki agrees, before bringing his coffee mug up to his mouth. He almost chokes on his drink from the indignant squawk Sawamura makes.

“Th-that's not nice! Wolf-boy is just misunderstood. He can be a little rude, but his music is very moving. You better not tease him, Miyuki Kazuya!”

Another beat passes while Sawamura stares down Miyuki, then everyone bursts into laughter.

When their giggles die down, the group falls into pleasant conversation, enjoying the company and food. It makes Shunpei happy to see his groupmates get along so well with Sawamura, Mochi, and Miyuki, and that they’re all able to use this time to relax.

In his pocket, Shunpei’s phone vibrates with an incoming text notification. With his free hand, he checks the message. Time's up.

“I’ll be back,” Shunpei says, waving his phone. “Gotta make a quick call.” 

Before letting go, Sawamura squeezes Shunpei’s hand, a light encouragement. “We'll be here.”

On his way out, Shunpei casually slips the largest bills he has on him into the tip jar, making sure both Miyuki and Mochi are distracted by their conversation before he does so.

As he steps onto the sidewalk, the evening chill cools his heated face, calms his heart. The dial tone rings, rings, rings, then stops.

“I’m ready, Todoroki-san. But on one condition...”

🎶

It almost feels like an entire lifetime has passed since Shunpei was last in the recording studio for CDTV. Nostalgia and excitement course through his veins as the producers whisk him and his groupmates away to wardrobe and makeup.

SPEED has the first recording slot for CDTV’s spring comeback stage. This will be their first time performing in almost an entire year, but Shunpei knows everything will be fine. 

Backstage, one of the emcees finds Shunpei just as the makeup artist puts the finishing touches on his look. He hops out of the chair to let Shouyou sit down for his makeup, then offers a friendly wave to the emcee and the camera crew that accompanies her.

“Here we have the one and only Ace, who looks well-rested and ready to take the stage! Is it true that you wrote and produced the cover song for SPEED’s comeback all by yourself?”

The bubbly woman holds the microphone in front of Shunpei, looking up to him with an expectant grin. 

“I did,” Shunpei responds. “But at the end of the day, we’re all a team. So I made sure that everyone had the freedom to let their voice show in this album, which we all made with love for our fans.”

The emcee’s eyes sparkle. “Wow! Can you tell us what the inspiration was for your song?”

“The summer rain,” Shunpei says simply, as he thinks back again to how it had brought him back to Sawamura. “It’s about changing your tempo and finding the things you may have once forgotten...a story of learning how to live in the moment, and letting an old seed in your heart blossom into a new love.”

“That’s very romantic, Ace-san! Thank you for sharing this with us. Now that I know this, I think that listening to your song will be even more special.”

The emcee bows at Shunpei, before turning to face the camera. “It’s time to learn more about SPEED’s choreography for this comeback from Amahisa-san and Miya-san. Let’s go!”

When the emcee and her crew move on, one of the producers finds Shunpei and whisks him off to a different part of the set, where a harried wardrobe specialist redoes a hem on Shunpei’s shirt and adjusts the black bands that hang from the ends of his belt. Before something else can sweep him away, Shunpei finds a mirror to give himself a final silent pep talk. He examines his outfit, impressed with the theme his team had come up with.

His flowy black and white top is tucked into the high waist of striking fitted red silk pants, cinched with a black belt. The first few buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing his toned chest, his beating heart. He looks like an idol. He looks like Ace.

“Calling everyone to set!”

With a final nod to the mirror, Shunpei heeds the producer’s calls and follows his groupmates into the crowded hallway that leads to the recording area, where a group of SPEED fans eagerly await the chance to see this comeback stage in person.

Finally, he’s taking his place on the stage set beside Raichi, Shouyou, Atsumu, and Kousei. It feels like home.

Shunpei takes in a sharp breath as he scans the crowded studio. Right in front of the stage, he sees a familiar face, illuminated by the wine-purple light from his SPEED light stick. Sawamura Eijun smiles even brighter, lighting up the entire room with his enthusiasm. Beside him, Mochi and Miyuki jab at each other with their light sticks, which they both have strategically turned off to avoid drawing too much attention to themselves.

From his periphery, Shunpei sees the producer counting down to recording with her hand. 

It’s time.

The stage lights dim, and silence falls over the studio. Shunpei lifts his head and drinks in the sight of his expectant fans, and the beautiful tension that crackles in the air just before the music starts.

Ace is ready.