The dimmed lights of the studio hallway cast soft shadows on the polished floor, the faint hum of distant machinery the only sound accompanying Kourin's quiet sigh. She stood rigidly, her sleek figure outlined by the glow of a nearby wall lamp, her arms crossed in a practiced display of authority. It had been another grueling day filled with interviews, rehearsals, and exhausting fan meet-ups, leaving her both mentally and physically drained. She glanced at her watch, the sharp click of her heel echoing as she tapped her foot against the tiled floor.

Her patience was waning. This wasn't new; punctuality, after all, was a standard she held herself and everyone around her to. It wasn't about control, not entirely—it was about efficiency, respect, and ensuring every second of her tightly packed day wasn't wasted. Yet here she was, waiting. Again.

Her gaze drifted toward the end of the corridor, where shadows danced from the movement of people just out of sight. The muted laughter of staff members echoed faintly, and she felt a pang of irritation. They had the luxury of downtime; she did not. She frowned, her sharp eyes narrowing in quiet disapproval.

Just as she was about to turn away and send a curt message, the sound of hurried footsteps broke through the quiet. Moments later, Aichi stumbled around the corner, panting slightly as he clutched a binder to his chest. His disheveled hair and flushed cheeks spoke of someone who had rushed here, yet his apologetic expression gave him an almost boyish charm. It was such a stark contrast to her composed demeanor that she almost found it amusing—almost.

"K-Kourin-san!" he called out, nearly tripping over his own feet as he skidded to a halt before her. "I'm so sorry! The printouts took longer than expected, and then the copier jammed—"

Kourin held up a hand, cutting him off with a stern look. "Enough excuses. Punctuality, Sendou. If you can't manage it, how can I trust you to manage my schedule?"

Her words were sharp, each one a deliberate strike, her voice carrying the weight of her high expectations. Aichi flinched, his shoulders hunching as he bowed low, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.

"I-I'm sorry!" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do better, I promise."

Before she could respond, he hesitated, then extended a thermos toward her with both hands. His grip was careful, as if he feared she might swat it away.

"I, um…I brought you jasmine tea," he said nervously, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I thought it might help you unwind a bit…"

Kourin blinked, momentarily thrown off by the gesture. She hadn't mentioned being tired, and yet, here he was, offering her favorite tea. The soft, familiar scent wafted warmly from the thermos, curling around her like a comforting embrace. For a moment, she stared at it, her usually composed expression faltering into one of mild surprise.

Her fingers brushed against his for a fraction of a second as she took the thermos, and Aichi's face turned a deeper shade of red. He quickly pulled his hands back, fidgeting with the hem of his blazer as if searching for something else to occupy them.

"I noticed you, um…had a lot of back-to-back sessions today," he mumbled, adjusting his glasses nervously. "So I thought you might…need it?"

The silence that followed was heavier than she intended. Kourin rarely allowed herself to pause, yet she found herself lingering in the moment. She unscrewed the cap, taking a sip. The warmth of the tea spread through her, soothing her frazzled nerves in a way few things could. She cleared her throat, her strict demeanor wavering just enough to allow a rare, muttered response.

"It's…good. Thanks, I suppose."

Aichi's lips curled into a small, relieved smile. "Of course. Anything else you need, Kourin-san?"

She glanced at him, her sharp eyes noting the faint dark circles under his and the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. He looked exhausted, yet his gaze held something else—genuine care. It wasn't hesitation or fear that drove him, but a quiet determination to support her, no matter how small the gesture. The realization was almost unsettling. She wasn't used to being cared for like this—not in such a simple, unspoken way.

"Just make sure you're on time tomorrow," she replied, her tone softening despite her attempt to remain stern. As he nodded and shuffled away, binder clutched tightly to his chest, she found herself lingering, watching him longer than she intended.

The faint hum of the hallway returned, but the jasmine scent lingered, subtle and calming. Her fingers tightened slightly around the thermos as she exhaled, the corners of her lips twitching into what might have been a smile—had she allowed it.

The next evening, rehearsal dragged on far later than expected. Each routine felt heavier than the last, her limbs sluggish and unresponsive despite her sharp discipline. Every spin, every note, every detail demanded perfection, and Kourin wasn't one to tolerate less—from herself or anyone else. By the time the session finally ended, the ache in her muscles matched the weariness in her mind.

Stepping out of the practice hall, the crisp evening air greeted her like a fleeting balm. The sharpness of it brushed against her skin, cooling the lingering warmth from hours of exertion. She exhaled slowly, her breath fogging faintly in the glow of nearby streetlights.

But it wasn't the cold that made her pause.

Just outside the entrance, Aichi stood awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. His figure was framed by the dim halo of a streetlamp, its light illuminating his slightly hunched posture and the faint nervous fidgeting of his hands. In them was a neatly packed bento box, its lid wrapped carefully in a patterned cloth.

The sight alone surprised her, though she gave no outward reaction.

"I…thought you might be hungry after practice," he said, his voice soft and wavering as he stepped forward, extending the box toward her. "So, um, I picked up a bento from your favorite place. I hope that's okay?"

For a moment, Kourin merely stared, her brows raising slightly in mild surprise. The warmth of the box seeped into her hands as she accepted it, the sensation a quiet contrast to the chill of the night. She could feel the care that had gone into this seemingly simple gesture—the neatly tied cloth, the way he cradled it before handing it over, as if it were more than just a meal.

"You really do pay attention, don't you?" she said, her voice lighter than her usual commanding tone.

Her comment wasn't accusatory, nor was it meant to sound like praise. But there was a softness in her words, an almost wistful curiosity at how someone so timid could be so…thoughtful.

Aichi's eyes widened, his face turning a shade redder in the streetlight's glow. He quickly looked away, his free hand moving to scratch the back of his head in a nervous tic. "I-It's part of the job, I guess…"

Kourin studied him, her sharp gaze softening as she took in the small details: the slight hunch of his shoulders, the way his glasses slipped down his nose whenever he fidgeted, the embarrassed determination in his expression. There was something refreshingly genuine about him, something unpolished and awkward, yet undeniably sincere.

A small, rare smile tugged at the corners of her lips, breaking through her usual composed exterior. It was faint, barely there, but it was real.

"Thank you, Aichi," she said, her tone carrying an unusual warmth that lingered in the quiet between them.

His head shot up, his wide eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before he looked away again, fumbling with his words. "I-It's my pleasure, Kourin-san."

The blush on his cheeks deepened as her soft tone seemed to resonate with him, and for a brief moment, Kourin wondered if he'd ever been thanked this earnestly before.

They began walking toward the studio exit together, the silence between them no longer heavy or strained. Instead, it felt natural—comfortable, even. The distant sounds of the city provided a subtle backdrop, the rhythm of their footsteps falling into an easy cadence.

She glanced down at the bento box in her hands, the faint scent of the food wafting through the cloth. It wasn't just the act of buying her a meal that struck her; it was the fact that he remembered her offhand comment from weeks ago, something she hadn't even realized he'd noticed.

As they neared the curb, she allowed herself a small, private thought: in a world filled with superficial gestures and carefully curated actions, there was something disarmingly honest about Aichi's simple kindness.

And for the first time in a long while, Kourin found herself wondering what his next gesture might be.

A few days later, at the Tatsunagi building's lounge buzzed softly with the low hum of conversation and the faint clink of porcelain cups against saucers. Evening light streamed through the tall windows, painting the modern space with a warm, amber hue. Kourin sat stiffly at the edge of a plush armchair, her coffee cup cradled in her hands. She had hoped for a quiet moment to unwind, but she wasn't alone.

Seated around her were Suiko, Rekka, Misaki, Asaka, and Yuri, all radiating varying degrees of curiosity and mischief. Suiko leaned casually against the arm of the couch, a knowing smirk playing on her lips, while Rekka practically buzzed with excitement, barely able to stay in her seat. Misaki watched with quiet amusement, sipping her own drink with an arched brow, while Asaka and Yuri exchanged whispers, their eyes flickering toward Kourin every few seconds.

Kourin exhaled softly, her fingers tightening around her coffee cup. She already knew where this was going.

"So, Kourin," Suiko began, her tone syrupy and teasing as she propped her chin on her hand. "We've been hearing some very interesting things about your manager lately. Care to share?"

Kourin's brow twitched ever so slightly, but her expression remained as composed as ever. "I don't see what's so interesting about it," she replied flatly, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Oh, come on," Rekka chimed in, practically bouncing in her seat. "He bought you a bento after rehearsal, didn't he? And wasn't it from your favorite place? That's, like, super thoughtful!"

Misaki chuckled softly, her gaze steady and observant. "Not to mention the jasmine tea. Sounds like someone's paying attention to all the little details."

Kourin set her cup down with a faint clink, her eyes narrowing slightly. "It's his job as my manager to ensure everything runs smoothly. I don't see why this is such a big deal."

"But it's not just that, is it?" Suiko pressed, her grin widening. "I mean, let's be real. Most managers wouldn't go out of their way to remember your favorite tea or spend time getting a bento just because you had a long day. That's not 'just the job,' Kourin."

Asaka, who had been quiet up until now, leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Exactly. It sounds like he really cares about you—beyond the professional level. Isn't that…nice?"

Kourin's gaze shifted toward Asaka, her sharp eyes cutting through the teasing atmosphere like a blade. "He's reliable, I'll give him that. But you're all reading far too much into this."

Yuri, ever the romantic, clasped her hands together and sighed dreamily. "It's like something out of a drama! The shy, hardworking manager secretly pining for the beautiful star…oh, it's perfect!"

Rekka let out a delighted laugh, leaning over to nudge Kourin. "So, what's he like when it's just the two of you? Is he super nervous? Does he stammer every time he talks?"

"He's competent," Kourin replied curtly, her voice firm. "And no, he doesn't 'stammer every time he talks.' Now, if you're all finished speculating about nothing, I have other things to attend to."

Her irritation was clear, but the girls didn't seem deterred. If anything, their smiles grew wider.

"Oh, Kourin," Suiko said with a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over her heart. "You're so good at pretending you don't care, but we see right through you. You do appreciate him, don't you?"

Kourin's fingers twitched against the armrest of her chair. She took a slow breath, willing herself to stay composed. "I appreciate anyone who does their job well. That's all there is to it."

"Sure, sure," Rekka said, her grin downright devilish. "But you're not denying it outright, either."

Misaki smirked over the rim of her cup, clearly enjoying the rare sight of Kourin on the defensive. "Maybe he's growing on you."

"Enough," Kourin said, her tone clipped but not unkind. She stood gracefully, smoothing out the lines of her jacket as she grabbed her coffee. "You're all wasting your time. There's nothing more to discuss."

As she turned to leave, Suiko called after her, a laugh in her voice. "We'll take that as a yes!"

Kourin didn't respond, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she exited the lounge. Once she was out of earshot, she allowed herself a small sigh, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

The teasing was relentless, but perhaps—just perhaps—they weren't entirely wrong.

That's a wrap!

Bye bye