–Inside the elevator
Hyoudo Michiru huddled in her brown coat, both hands clutching the collar as if to hide her graceful figure.
Standing diagonally in front of her was Aki Tomoya, motionless ever since pressing the floor button.
Michiru's lips quivered.
She glanced at her childhood friend again and again, wanting to speak but unable to find the words.
Thankfully, the building was tall enough that even this luxury elevator would give her plenty of time to gather her thoughts.
The only sounds inside were the faint hum of the ventilation system and the soft thud of Michiru tapping the back of her head against the elevator wall.
In such an awkward silence, most guys would at least try to break the ice with something lame like, "This elevator sure runs smoothly."
But not Aki Tomoya.
He simply stood there, presenting his back to the girl who had chased after him in concern.
Silence. Stillness. Tension.
'This atmosphere is all wrong!' Michiru scolded herself.
She wasn't the type to just wait around for someone else to start talking.
She never was.
Decisive, straightforward, never fake—her body always acted faster than her mind.
"Hey, Tomo…" she called without hesitation.
"Wha—huh?"
Lost in his own thoughts, Aki Tomoya actually jumped at her voice. Then he frowned and grumbled:
"Don't just yell out of nowhere, Michiru! You scared me."
"What? You were louder than me!"
Michiru tossed back the retort casually, not bothering to argue like most girls would.
Instead, she pressed on, staying on track.
"So, Tomo—what are you thinking?"
"Me?"
Tomoya blinked, then grew serious.
Adjusting his glasses, he answered solemnly:
"I was wondering if I should move next month's budget for Akasaka-sensei's new release.
You see, I only pre-ordered one copy of that game earlier, but honestly—even without playing it, just from the trailers alone.
It's clear it's worth buying a brand-new copy just to keep sealed as a collector's item.
The producer may be a newcomer, but the script's by Ninomiya-sensei, the author of Even a Vending Machine in Another World Can Find Happiness.
And the art? It's by Nishimaru-sensei, famous for his restrained aesthetic.
This was his first time working in this style, so I thought it would feel off, but surprisingly—it just clicks. And don't get me started on the voice actors, I'm telling you—"
"Tomo!" Michiru's voice rose sharply. "I'm not asking about games! I mean what you were just thinking about!"
"Huh? That was what I was just thinking about…"
Tomoya trailed off as he noticed her expression darken.
His voice shrank, and, for once, his brain switched into normal-person mode.
"Oh… you mean about the band stuff."
"Oh? Just an 'oh'? That's it!?"
Even Michiru, usually boyish and easygoing, found herself bristling at his nonchalant tone.
"So you're saying—even if I really went and joined Hojou Kyousuke's cheer squad, or even begged him to be my manager—it wouldn't matter to you?"
Her voice trembled with disbelief.
She had thought Tomoya's silence meant he was upset by her father's words, weighed down by the idea of Hojou Kyousuke being involved.
That's why she'd hesitated so long before speaking. But instead… he hadn't even been thinking about her.
His head had been full of games, scripts, illustrators, and voice actors?!
'Here I am, torn up about betraying you.'
'Tomo—about giving Hojou Kyousuke my support, about letting him take me to livehouse performances—and you… you're just thinking about games?!'
The elevator wasn't cramped—in fact, it was spacious, downright extravagant for land-scarce Tokyo.
Yet Tomoya felt as though Michiru's presence filled it entirely, choking the very air from his lungs.
"I-I didn't mean it like that…" he stammered in protest.
Michiru drew in a deep breath, shoving both hands into her coat pockets and tugging them inward, as though to seal her anger inside her body. And somehow, she managed.
Calming her voice, she said steadily:
"Whatever nonsense you were just thinking about—"
"That's this year's most anticipated—"
"Talk about games again and I'll make my dad sit with you for twenty-four hours straight. Right now, shut up and listen to me!"
"…Fine."
"I just want to know—didn't you used to oppose me joining Hojou's cheer squad? So why, when Dad asked him to be my manager, did you suddenly run off without a word?"
That, more than anything, was what Michiru couldn't accept.
She already knew Tomoya getting beaten up earlier was deserved—but this?
Running away like that, without an ounce of responsibility?
That wasn't the Tomo she knew!
Her Tomo might be timid and even a little weird most of the time, but in crucial moments he was always dependable—someone she could rely on.
That was why she had called him for help that night—because deep down, she had hoped he would save her from the darkness of that mountain forest, just like when they were kids.
"…Because, well… didn't Uncle Hyoudo already decide?"
Tomoya turned away, avoiding her eyes, staring instead at the floor numbers ticking upward.
"That was just my dad talking. What about you? By turning and walking away, were you saying you agreed with him?"
Michiru pressed, clinging to the faint hope his vague words had left her.
"Of course not!" Tomoya snapped, shaking his head.
"How could I ever agree to Michiru joining Hojou Kyousuke's cheer squad? A manager? No way! There's no chance I'd hand Michiru over to someone like him!"
A bright smile spread across Michiru's face. That was the Tomo she knew—the one who always pulled through when it mattered most.
"Then… Tomo," she asked softly, her voice brimming with hope, "will you be my manager?"
Before he could answer, she quickly added:
"You said before you wanted me to compose music for your game, right? If you'll be my manager, then I'll help make your music too. Just like Ryouta said—we'll hold hands and move forward together."
Her large violet eyes sparkled as she gazed at the back of his head.
But while her face shone with expectation, Tomoya's face—hidden from her, turned toward the elevator doors was clouded with hesitation and refusal.
Or so he thought.
Because in the faint reflection of the elevator's bronzed metal, Michiru saw his expression clearly enough. Distorted though it was, it left no doubt.
"Tomo?" she whispered, her voice wavering with confusion.
"Uh… well…"
Tomoya swallowed hard, his expression pained.
"Being your manager… I just don't have the time for that."
"No time?" Michiru repeated blankly.
Plenty of time to line up for pre-order releases.
No time to give advice about her band.
Plenty of time to work on his game.
No time to be her manager.
Yes—these were all her selfish requests.
Tomoya had no obligation to agree.
But still—this wasn't the Tomo she remembered.
The Tomo who had begged her to make music for his game, who had said she was a genius and could pull it off with ease…
He followed her around every day, clinging to her and making her lose face, always saying, "We're family—family should rely on each other."
He…
Michiru suddenly felt short of breath, as if she'd been yanked back to that summer of her childhood—the most despairing moment in the past seventeen years.
"Yeah, you're already a second-year now, so it's time to start thinking about college. And like I said before, livehouses aren't that dangerous.
I can recommend some otaku-friendly ones that are totally safe.
Still, it'd be amazing if you could help me with music. I already secured an illustrator, but when it comes to music I'm completely stuck. You'd be saving me big time."
Aki Tomoya's voice had been a little unsteady, but the moment he started talking about livehouses and game production, his energy shot up.
He turned around, speaking with excitement.
Michiru kept her head low, her expression hidden.
Only the two violet strands of hair by her ears swayed faintly.
"So, are you saying it's fine if I get drugged and sold off after being tricked!?"
Her clear, girlish voice came out husky and strained.
"I knew it! You do think of rock that way!"
Aki Tomoya couldn't help but grin, a triumphant smile slipping onto his face—though it vanished almost immediately when he caught the shadowed look on Michiru's face.
His tone weakened.
"I… I didn't mean it like that. It's just, I really can't handle the whole manager thing. I don't want anything to do with stuff outside of otaku culture.
It's not that I think rock is scary—it's just that the color of my soul is different. Forcing me to do something like that… isn't it asking the impossible?"
"Then do you think Hojou Kyousuke can handle it?" Michiru asked.
"Of course! Hojou-sensei started his own animation studio from scratch. With his connections and ability, something like this would be a walk in the park." Tomoya answered without hesitation.
"So basically, without any backup plan, you're rejecting the only workable solution just for the sake of rejecting it?"
"Well… I told you, didn't I? He's a maniac! He'll beat anyone—boy or girl—without mercy!"
Tomoya shouted in frustration, almost as if giving up.
"How about you just join my game circle instead, Michiru? It's not the same as rock, but I'm sure you'd get used to it right away. And once the game's out, you could still perform at livehouses anyway."
Michiru stayed silent for two seconds, her face unreadable.
When she finally spoke, her voice was small:
"So, you can't be my manager… because your soul is a different color from things outside of otaku culture?"
"Yeah."
"And you think I could just easily get used to otaku stuff?"
The short-haired girl lifted her chin, violet eyes glimmering with the same determination she showed on the field when leading her team to victory.
"Because… I don't have a soul, is that it?"
She tilted her head slightly, her two violet bangs swaying with the motion.
The gesture itself was cute, but her expression was as cold as ice.
Tomoya panicked.
He had never seen such a frightening look on Michiru's face.
Ever since that incident in their childhood, she had always faced him with a bright smile.
"No! I never said that!" He instinctively stepped back.
"I'm sorry! Okay? I won't try to drag you into the otaku world anymore. Just don't make me do all that other weird stuff either!" he blurted out in a rush.
"Weird stuff?"
Michiru's eyes widened.
Her head turned slightly, as if her mind had gone blank.
Something so important to me… is just weird stuff to him?
"…Fine. I won't oppose it anymore. You can go ask Hojou Kyousuke to be your manager. Happy?" Tomoya turned his back, almost like a sulking child.
'Gulp—'
Michiru swallowed mechanically, staring at the unfamiliar reflection of herself in the bronze elevator doors.
"So, Tomo, you're personally pushing me toward the very person you hate?" she asked softly.
"What else can I do? I've got games to make, jobs to work—I don't have time for that kind of thing," Tomoya muttered.
"Even if we paid you?"
"I already told you—my soul's color is otaku!" he shouted angrily.
"…I understand."
Michiru pulled her jacket tighter around herself.
At first, the idea of cheering for the guy who'd beaten up Tomo had felt like a painful betrayal.
But now, hearing him tell her to go support Hojou Kyousuke instead, that betrayal twisted into something else—something sharp, fiery, almost vindictive.
The elevator fell into silence again, until the soft ding signaled they'd reached the first floor.
Without a word, Tomoya stormed out, head down.
He heard Michiru's footsteps behind him, but never turned around.
In the lobby, the building's manager spotted the cute Hyoudou girl approaching.
He'd been ready to greet her with a smile, but froze when he saw her face.
The girl who always wore a dazzling smile looked utterly heartbroken.
The gloomy weather only added to the weight in the air, though the light patter of rain outside carried a faint sense of renewal.
They stepped out the front doors.
As expected of a luxury tower, the subway entrance was less than a hundred meters away.
It was about 5 p.m.
The underground walkway at Roppongi Center was as crowded as Christmas—not in decoration, but in sheer density of people rushing past.
Carried along with the crowd, they soon reached the platform.
The next train was three minutes away. Already on edge, Tomoya grew even more irritable.
He was convinced he hadn't done anything wrong, and yet the thought of facing Michiru left him shaken.
"Tomo…"
Of course. The very voice he was trying to avoid came from behind him.
"You know… I've always been grateful to you."
"When we were kids, I thought you were the least manly boy ever. Always clinging to me, never playing with the boys, never fitting in with the girls—just annoying, really. But when it really mattered, you were the one I could rely on."
"That summer… when I ran up the mountain alone. My luck couldn't have been worse. Everyone said I was athletic, but that time I sprained my ankle so badly I couldn't even walk."
"The forest gets dark earlier in the mountains. One second it was still bright, and the next, everything was swallowed by shadows."
"The sound of crows was unbearable, terrifying even."
"Bats darted between the trees, black shapes circling as if they'd snatch me away at any moment."
She spoke quietly, her voice steady. In front of them, the pitch-black tunnel seemed to echo her words—deep, impenetrable, hiding who knew what inside.
"I was so scared. I couldn't even cry for help—my body was shaking too much to make a sound…"
Even after all these years, her soft voice carried the same weight of despair she'd felt back then.