The mask settled over Ai's face, a familiar shield between her true self and the world. She adjusted her wig in the taxi's rearview mirror, catching the driver's curious glance.
"Costume party," she explained with a practiced laugh.
The driver nodded, uninterested. "Address again?"
Ai gave her apartment building's location and settled back, her mind still lingering in Toshiro's tiny kitchen. The memory of napkin warfare and burnt hamburger steaks pulled a smile across her face. How long had it been since she'd done something so childish? So unguarded?
The taxi wound through Tokyo's night-lit streets. Ai watched the city blur past her window, the neon signs and crowded sidewalks a stark contrast to the quiet intimacy of the apartment she'd just left. Her phone buzzed with a message.
Hope you made it home safely. Thanks for salvaging dinner. And my dignity. -T
Her fingers hovered over the screen. What was the appropriate response? Professional gratitude? Friendly teasing? Something more?
Next time I'm bringing takeout. Your kitchen privileges are revoked. -T
The reply came almost instantly: Fair. Though I maintain my tea skills are exceptional. -T
Ai smiled at her phone. Agreed. A+. Would drink again. -A
Three dots appeared, disappeared, then reappeared. Finally: Professional development round two tomorrow? No cooking required. -T
Her heart stuttered in a way that felt dangerously unprofessional.
Let me check my schedule. Idols are very busy and important people. -A
Of course. I'll wait patiently while you consult your extensive calendar of green onion theft opportunities. -T
Ai laughed out loud, earning another glance from the driver.
You're never letting that go, are you? -A
Not a chance, short stack. -T
The taxi pulled up to her building. Ai paid and hurried inside, maintaining her disguise until safely in the elevator. She removed the wig and mask, tucking them into her purse before the doors opened on her floor.
The apartment was quiet when she entered, save for the low murmur of the television. Miyako sat curled on the couch, engrossed in a late-night drama, empty snack wrappers scattered across the coffee table.
"I'm back," Ai called softly, slipping off her shoes.
Miyako looked up, pausing the show. "Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in." Her eyes narrowed, scanning Ai from head to toe. "You look different."
"Different how?" Ai asked, suddenly self-conscious.
"Glowy." Miyako's lips curved into a knowing smile. "So, how was the 'professional development meeting'?"
Ai dropped onto the couch beside her, the dreamlike quality of the evening still clinging to her. "It was... nice."
"Nice?" Miyako repeated, incredulous. "You're Japan's top idol. You don't do 'nice.' You do 'spectacular' or 'disastrous.' There's no in-between."
"Fine. It was... unexpected." Ai pulled her knees to her chest, feeling strangely vulnerable. "We talked. Made dinner. Well, saved dinner after he nearly burned down his kitchen trying to make hamburger steak."
"Hamburger steak?" Miyako's eyebrows shot up. "Your favorite? That's... specific knowledge for a 'professional' acquaintance."
Ai shrugged. "It came up in conversation once."
"Uh-huh." Miyako muted the TV completely. "And after this culinary disaster?"
"Nothing happened," Ai said too quickly. At Miyako's skeptical look, she added, "We had tea. Talked about work. Normal things."
"Right." Miyako leaned forward. "That's why you're sitting there with that dopey smile. Because of 'normal things.'"
Ai hadn't realized she was smiling. She schooled her features into something more neutral. "It was just nice to talk to someone who... gets it."
"Gets what?"
"The orphanage thing. The pressure. The performance." Ai traced a pattern on the couch cushion. "Plus, he's easy to be around. Not demanding or intense. Just... present."
Miyako studied her face for a long moment. "You like him."
"He's a colleague," Ai deflected.
"A colleague who makes you smile like that?" Miyako shook her head. "Honey, I've seen that smile before. On my own face, back when your manager first promised me a life surrounded by beautiful men."
Ai groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "It's complicated."
"No shit." Miyako snorted. "You're Japan's pure idol with secret twins. 'Complicated' doesn't begin to cover it."
Ai looked up, suddenly serious. "Miyako... can you keep this from Ichigo? Just for now?"
"Keep what? That you had dinner with a coworker?" Miyako's expression softened. "Or that you like him?"
"I'm not falling for anyone," Ai insisted. "I just... want to figure this out without Ichigo's interference. You know how protective he gets."
Miyako sighed. "Fine. Your secret's safe with me. But Ai..." She reached out, taking her hand. "You have to be careful. This isn't just about you anymore."
"I know."
"If this is something you want to pursue... he needs to be perfect. Not just for you—for Aqua and Ruby too." Miyako's voice gentled. "Plus, you're going to have to trust him with the biggest secret of your life."
The reality of her situation crashed over Ai like a cold wave. Her children. Her career. The delicate balance she maintained between her two worlds. Could she really risk all that for... what? A feeling? A connection? A few hours of normalcy?
"I know it's impossible," Ai said quietly.
"I didn't say impossible." Miyako squeezed her hand. "Just complicated. And requiring someone extraordinary."
Ai's mind drifted to Toshiro—his easy laugh, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, how he'd remembered her favorite food. The careful way he'd removed the napkin from her hair, his fingertips barely grazing her temple.
"He might be," she admitted, so softly it was almost a whisper.
"Might be what?"
"Extraordinary."
Miyako leaned back, studying her face. "Well, damn. You're in deeper than I thought."
"I barely know him," Ai protested.
"And yet." Miyako gestured to Ai's entire person. "Look at you."
Ai stood, needing to move, to escape Miyako's too-perceptive gaze. She wandered to the window, looking out at the city lights. "It's probably nothing. A momentary lapse in judgment."
"Right." Miyako's tone made it clear she didn't believe that for a second. "So you're not seeing him again?"
Ai's silence was answer enough.
"That's what I thought." Miyako sighed. "Just... be careful. Think about what it would mean. For all of you."
Ai nodded, her reflection ghostly in the window glass.
What would it mean? To let someone new into their carefully constructed world?
She closed her eyes, allowing herself to imagine it. Toshiro here, in this apartment. His tall frame folded onto their small couch, Ruby climbing over him like the monkey she was. Aqua showing him his latest book, serious and solemn. The four of them at the kitchen table, laughing over dinner.
It felt... right. In a way that terrified her.
Toshiro's blonde hair and blue eyes—so similar to her children's. They could pass as his. Anyone seeing them together would assume they were a family. The thought sent a strange thrill through her, followed immediately by guilt.
They already had a father, even if he'd never known them. Even if she'd made sure of that.
"What are you thinking about?" Miyako's voice broke through her reverie.
Ai turned from the window. "That he looks like he could be their father."
Miyako's eyebrows shot up. "Whoa. That's... a leap."
"I mean physically," Ai clarified. "Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Anyone would assume..."
"That's convenient," Miyako said carefully. "But also dangerous. Assumptions lead to questions."
"Or they could lead to protection," Ai countered. "A built-in cover story."
Miyako stood, joining her at the window. "Listen to yourself. You're already constructing elaborate scenarios where this works out."
"Is that so wrong?" Ai asked. "To imagine something good?"
"No." Miyako's voice softened. "But you need to be realistic. This isn't a drama where everything ties up neatly in the final episode. This is your life. Their lives."
Ai nodded, the weight of responsibility settling back onto her shoulders. "You're right."
"Usually am." Miyako bumped her shoulder gently. "Doesn't mean you can't explore... whatever this is. Just means you need to be smart about it."
"Smart was never my strong suit," Ai admitted. "That's why I have you."
"Damn straight." Miyako yawned. "Now, tell me more about this dinner disaster. Did he really try to make hamburger steak from scratch?"
Ai smiled, the tension easing. "Complete catastrophe. Sauce on the walls. Smoke everywhere."
"And you still stayed?"
"Shut up." Ai shoved her lightly. "It was... sweet. That he tried."
"Sweet," Miyako repeated. "From the girl who once told me romance was 'performance art for gullible people.'"
"I've evolved," Ai said primly.
"Clearly." Miyako headed toward the door. "Well, this has been illuminating. Get some sleep, lovebird. Those twins of yours wake up at the crack of dawn."
"We're having dinner again tomorrow," Ai blurted before Miyako could leave. "Professional development. Round two."
Miyako turned, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "Of course you are."
"It's just dinner."
"It's never just dinner." Miyako shook her head. "Text me the details. I'll keep the rugrats entertained."
After Miyako left, Ai moved quietly through the apartment, checking on her sleeping children. Ruby sprawled across her bed, limbs akimbo, stuffed animals scattered around her like fallen soldiers. Aqua slept neatly, tucked under his covers, a book still open beside him.
Ai gently removed the book, marking his place before setting it on the nightstand. She brushed his blonde hair from his forehead, studying his peaceful face.
"What would you think?" she whispered. "About someone new in our lives?"
Aqua slept on, offering no answer. Ai kissed his forehead and moved to Ruby's room, tucking her daughter's limbs back under the covers. Ruby mumbled something in her sleep, clutching her favorite plush toy tighter.
In her own bedroom, Ai changed into pajamas and slipped under the covers. Her phone lit up with one last message.
Sweet dreams, short stack. Looking forward to professional development: ramen edition.
She typed back: Goodnight, disaster chef. Try not to burn anything before tomorrow.
Setting her phone aside, Ai stared at the ceiling. Miyako was right—she was getting ahead of herself. One dinner didn't change the reality of her situation. Didn't erase the complications or risks.
And yet... she couldn't help the small spark of hope that had ignited in her chest. The dangerous thought that maybe, just maybe, there was a path forward where she could have this too. Not just her career. Not just her children. But something for herself. Someone who saw her—the real her—and stayed anyway.
It was a fool's hope. She knew that. Had always known that.
But for tonight, at least, she'd let herself be foolish.