Chapter 4: Everyone is in Love

I didn't really know anything about it, but apparently, a kidnapping ring disguised as a delivery service had spontaneously collapsed. Perhaps as a result, the people tailing Yoruno had disappeared.

There was probably some mastermind behind them, but for the moment, peace had returned. While my high school classmates were off at summer training camps or playing at the pool, I focused entirely on looking after the idols.

That week, my job was to escort all five of them to the practice studio every day.

It was supposed to be a routine week of dance lessons for their new single, but something strange started happening.

It began on the first day, as we were heading to the studio.

"You really get it, don't you, Hananome?"

Akahoshi Miku lunged at me with a playful "Don!" of a tackle.

"I had no idea you liked me that much. Heh-heh. You could have just said so."

As we walked, she kept poking me in the back.

"Akahoshi, aren't you... a little too close today!?"

"You love it when I touch you. Should I do it more? Poke, poke."

Even during the lesson breaks, she’d come over to me while wiping away her sweat.

"Here, Hananome. You must be thirsty too."

She’d thrust a bottle of water toward me.

"Usually, I’m the one who’s supposed to be doing that for you."

"It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m giving you a special service, so just be happy!"

For the rest of the day, Akahoshi was in high spirits, constantly "servicing" me with her attention.

However, the next day, as soon as she saw me, she gave me a cold, sideways glance and kicked me without a word. She wouldn't even speak to me.

"Wait, what happened? What about yesterday's service?"

In contrast, on that second day, Tsukishima-san was suddenly incredibly kind.

It started from the moment I went to wake her up.

"Hmm... so you prefer me, do you?"

Tsukishima-san looked at me and wrapped her slender, pale arms around my neck, dragging me toward the bed. She whispered in my ear.

"You should have just been honest from the start."

"I am currently experiencing a confusing mix of bewilderment and joy!"

"I think I’ll work extra hard today," she added.

She gave me a light, soft hug with her airy frame, then got ready for the day much faster than usual. And then—

"Let’s eat lunch together."

During the lunch break, she brought her bento over and sat beside me. She started piling her side dishes onto my rice.

"I don't eat much. You finish it, Hananome-kun."

"What is this phenomenon? Why is everyone suddenly being so nice to me...?"

"They call me an angel, you know. Didn't you know that?"

"I know you have a side that isn't angelic at all, so this is actually a little scary!"

As I was dealing with her, I noticed Yakumo staring at me from the corner of the studio with an intense, pressured gaze that seemed to say, "It's my turn next, right!?" I had no idea what she was expecting.

But the next day, when I went to the sharehouse to escort the group, Yakumo saw me and gave a satisfied nod.

"Ehehe."

She skipped over to me with a shy smile and gave me a playful nudge with her shoulder.

"I see you understand perfectly. I’ll work my hardest for you today, Hananome-san."

True to her word, during the dance lesson, Yakumo’s movements were sharper than ever. After the practice—

"Let’s stretch together, Hananome-san."

Yakumo made me sit on the floor. "They say being flexible makes you less tired in your daily life."

As I spread my legs, Yakumo moved behind me to push my back. She let out a small "Oh."

"I-I’m sorry. I’m all sweaty and I touched you..."

"I don't mind that kind of thing."

"I see... well... in that case... I don't mind either..."

Despite her embarrassment, Yakumo leaned her weight onto my back, pushing my torso down toward the floor in a straddle stretch.

"Ow, ow-ow-ow-ow!"

"Bear with it. This is how you become flexible."

She pressed herself against me with a firm gyuuuuu.

Yakumo was a bit taller than me, so she was really squashing me down. Having her body heat and her feminine softness pressed against me right after a lesson was... intense. I looked to the side and saw her beautiful face just inches from mine, her cheeks flushed red.

"This is... a little extra service," she whispered, pressing even harder.

Day by day, the members were getting motivated and being sweet to me.

I couldn't figure out why. But as I engaged in this "skinship" with the others, naturally—

"Um, Yoruno... could you maybe stop that?"

It was on the way home from the studio.

Yoruno was walking behind me, repeatedly stepping on the heels of my shoes. Her aim was impeccable. She’d get the right, then the left, until both my shoes came off and I was left standing on the asphalt in my socks, looking like a total idiot.

"Are you... mad at me?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

Yoruno looked at me with a perfectly straight face. "Why would I be mad? I have absolutely no reason to be angry. I’m happy that Hananome-kun is getting along so well with everyone. Truly. Yeah, it must have been nice, stretching with 'Big-Chested Aya-chan.' Melting-Mush Hananome-kun. Chests."

"............"

I put my shoes back on and started walking. Immediately, she stepped on my heels again. Right, then left.

"You are definitely mad!"

"I am not. My foot just keeps slipping. It’s a total coincidence."

I ended up walking home with pitch-black socks.

That night, in the living room, I consulted my sister. I told her about the members being nice on a rotating schedule and Yoruno’s foul mood. My sister’s reaction was—

"Huh."

"Wait, that’s it? Isn't there supposed to be more of a reaction?"

My sister yawned, lounging on the sofa while scrolling through her phone.

"I mean, you’re just bragging about your harem at this point."

"........."

"If you want to fix Maya-chan’s mood, just hug her and kiss her. She’ll be thrilled."

"Must be nice~" she sighed, stretching out like a cat. "Being able to date Yoruno Maya... what a dream."

"I told you, it’s not allowed! She’s an idol. I have to prioritize the group!"

My sister stood up with a "Fine, fine."

"This isn't about love or jealousy, probably."

She went over to the laundry rack and pulled off a T-shirt.

"Wear this tomorrow. I bet it’ll make Maya-chan happy."

I took the T-shirt and tilted my head. No matter how I looked at it, it was just a plain, solid-colored shirt I’d bought at a discount store.

"This? Really?"

"Just try it."

The next morning, when I went to the sharehouse to escort the five of them—

The moment Yoruno saw me, she was in a fantastic mood.

"I knew it! I knew you got it, Hananome-kun!"

She rushed over, grabbed my hand, and shook it vigorously.

"What is going on? What happened?"

"I’m going to work so hard today~!"

At the studio, Yoruno’s dancing was even more explosive than usual. Every time she stopped, she’d look over at me and give me a dazzling smile or a peace sign.

She was incredibly cute. But—

"Why is she so happy today?"

As I was scratching my head in the corner of the studio, Yakumo came over.

"Hananome-san, you haven't noticed?"

"Noticed what?"

"The color. The color of your T-shirt."

Yakumo poked me on the shoulder.

"The first day, it was pink. The second day, white. After that, purple. And today, it’s mint green."

"Oh!"

It finally clicked. Summer had arrived, and I’d bought a bunch of plain T-shirts in bulk. Since I didn't want my sister teasing me for being like Steve Jobs, I’d bought them in different colors. By pure chance—

"They were the member colors!"

Each member of Capsule Planets had an assigned color. Yoruno was mint green, Akahoshi was pink, Tsukishima-san was white, and Yakumo was purple.

On the days I wore a color that matched one of the girls, that member would get a massive boost in energy.

"Wait, for such a simple reason!?"

"It’s actually a very big deal," Yakumo said with a smile. "It makes us feel like we have a fan right there in the studio with us."

Fans who love Yoruno wave mint-green penlights and wear mint-green clothes. In other words, the reason the girls had been "servicing" me on a rotation was because they viewed me as their fan for the day.

"They really are natural-born idols, aren't they...?"

"I guess it just happens naturally. When I see my color out in the city, I go 'Oh!' And when I’m buying a wallet or a bag, I tend to gravitate toward it."

Yakumo admitted that ever since she’d accepted purple as her color, she could only buy grape-flavored gummies.

"So my sister knew all along."

Yoruno had been sulking because she wanted me to wear her color.

"By the way," Yakumo said, her expression turning a bit chilly. "Last night, I went to sleep hoping Hananome-san would wear my purple T-shirt again today. But you didn't. You just built up my hopes and then dashed them, didn't you?"

"............"

"Well, I’m going back to practice."

Yakumo walked away to start her part of the drill.

So that was why Akahoshi had been so cold on the second day.

"Wait, so what am I supposed to do now? Keeping everyone happy is going to be impossible!"

Yoruno was one thing, but Akahoshi—when she wasn't dealing with her fear of bugs—had a very competitive personality. On the second day when I didn't wear pink, she’d probably been thinking, "I’m clearly the cutest one here, so why...?" On the day I stopped wearing white, Tsukishima-san had refused to get out of bed. Even the shy Yakumo was like this.

They were all so steeped in the idol mindset that they couldn't stand the idea of even their manager not being their #1 fan.

President Meno’s words came back to me:

Those girls are all the type who can't stand not being number one. I specifically recruited girls like that. Hananome-kun, make sure you handle them well.

But—

"Paying attention to all of them at once is way too hard!"

As I was worrying about what to do, I noticed a pink, girly towel lying on the floor.

Setting aside my wardrobe concerns for tomorrow, I picked up the towel.

"Hey, Akahoshi—"

Since it was pink, I naturally assumed it was hers. But just as I was about to call out—

"Sorry, that’s mine."

Aoyama-san reached out for the towel.

"Oh............ right."

I hesitated for a split second before handing it over.

Aoyama-san’s expression was cool and composed, as always. But in that tiny moment—that silence that lasted less than a second—a lot was communicated. Aoyama-san stared at me with her sharp, almond-shaped eyes and spoke.

"Do you think colors like this don't suit me either, Hananome-kun?"

◇

Aoyama Sorano-san.

Among the girls, she was likely the most popular after Yoruno. Her trademark pixie cut left a vivid impression whether she was on stage or in a photoshoot. On the latest jacket art, where the five members stood in profile, she was positioned right at the front—a look that had earned her a reputation for being undeniably "cool."

Her hair was perfectly trimmed; her facial features, sharp and symmetrical. And like Yoruno and the others, she had been assigned a member color. President Meno liked to keep things simple, so he’d chosen the color based on her name and the vibe she gave off.

A sky blue so clear it felt like you could fall into it.

But...

The day after I’d worn the mint green T-shirt, I kept up my rotation. Despite Yoruno’s constant "intimidation," I showed up to work in a blue shirt. However, Aoyama-san didn't give me nearly the same reaction as Yoruno or Akahoshi.

"Thanks," she said, offering nothing more than a faint, fleeting smile.

It made me think back to the time I’d picked up her pink towel and the words she’d said then.

“I guess you think these kinds of colors don't suit me either, right, Hananome-kun?”

It was obvious that Aoyama-san harbored some complicated feelings regarding her color. And I needed to take action. Why? Because I’d received a call from President Meno.

“Lately, Sorano’s been looking a little down,” the CEO had told me. She had a sharp eye for that sort of thing; I guess that’s what made her a pro. “By the way, Hananome-kun... for a guy like you who turns into a puddle around cute girls, I can’t imagine a happier workplace.”

“I’ll admit it,” I’d sighed into the phone. “I’m definitely the type to get a little... soft.”

“Then make sure you look after Sorano. Motivation is everything in this business. If the group isn't healthy, this ‘happy workplace’ of yours won’t last very long.”

And that brought me here, to the practice studio.

Acting as President Meno’s loyal hound, I approached Aoyama-san while she was resting in the corner. I tried to keep the tone as light as possible to make it easier for her to open up.

"Whassup? Need a shoulder to lean on?" I asked, affecting a breezy, casual air.

Aoyama-san didn't say a word. She just stared at me with incredibly cold, judgmental eyes.

"Okay, sorry..." I muttered, immediately deflating.

Aoyama-san let out a small sigh and looked away. "You really are a pushover, aren't you, Hananome-kun? Especially when it comes to girls."

"Is that how everyone sees me...?"

"But that fake casualness doesn't suit you," she continued, her voice carrying an air of absolute certainty. "Because you don't actually believe in it."

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You're just going along with the trend—the idea that being lighthearted and breezy is what makes a guy cool. You’re just playing a part."

"Could you not read me so easily? It’s embarrassing."

She was like Yoruno in that regard. These girls had incredible intuition; they understood things instinctively without even having to think about them.

"There’s no point in me asking, is there?" she said. "You’ve already guessed what’s on my mind, haven't you?"

"Well, yeah. Sort of."

I pulled out my phone and pulled up a social media app. Since becoming a manager, I’d started monitoring the digital landscape. I navigated to a post that had been blowing up lately.

The account name was Celebrity Chihuahua CEO. True to the name, the icon was a humanoid illustration of a chihuahua. Like President Meno, he claimed to be an agency president and idol producer. He posted frequently about the "types" of girls suited for the industry, success strategies, and insider gossip for aspiring idols. He had a massive following.

This Chihuahua CEO had recently posted an analysis of Capsule Planets' success.

【The secret to the Planets' success lies with Aoyama Sorano-chan! The 'Boyish Archetype' is a total necessity!】

The post continued into a long thread.

【Having a boyish member like Sorano-chan helps secure female fans!】

【Yuri fanservice is a viable strategy! So precious!】

【Aspiring idols should keep a close eye on Aoyama Sorano!】

And finally:

【If it were me, I’d have Sorano-chan interact even more with the other members. If they did that, the Planets would be way more popular. Ah, idol producing is so much fun! I can see so many visions for them. I’ve gotta work harder too!】

I looked up from the screen. "You worry about what people say on social media too, Aoyama-san?"

"I don't go looking for it," she replied, her gaze drifting toward the ceiling. "But it popped up in my suggestions. And ever since that post went viral, I’ve been getting tons of messages from people saying they want to see more 'Yozora' or 'Hoshizora'."

Just as Capsule Planets was often shortened to "The Planets," the members had their own monikers: Night, Sky, Star, Moon, and Cloud. "Yozora" (Night-Sky) referred to the pairing of Yoruno and Aoyama-san, while "Hoshizora" (Star-Sky) was the pairing of Akahoshi and Aoyama-san.

It seemed the Chihuahua CEO’s suggestion for more "Yuri-style" interaction had triggered a flood of requests directly to her.

"The influence of social media is terrifying," I muttered.

Aoyama-san didn't respond to that. She kept her eyes fixed on empty space. "Maya and Miku... they have so many male fans who are legitimately in love with them."

"That’s true."

Aoyama-san reached up and touched the blue towel draped around her neck.

"I'm a girl too, you know," she whispered.

◇

Aoyama-san wasn't the type to have wild mood swings, so her performance didn't suffer. However, during their next live show, she did something she never usually did—she suddenly pulled Yoruno into a side-hug on stage. A segment of the audience erupted in cheers. Aoyama-san just wore an expression that said, I guess this is what they want.

Yoruno, on the other hand, came off stage afterward with a bright red face, stammering about how her heart was racing.

A few days later, a gap opened up in the schedule during a monthly fashion magazine shoot. Aoyama-san wanted to grab a coffee and relax until her next slot, so I decided to go with her. I had to ensure that Aoyama-san, with her nonexistent sense of direction, didn't end up wandering into some uncharted territory and discovering a new civilization.

We were sitting side-by-side at a counter, staring blankly at the street through the glass, when a young man approached us.

"You're Sorano-chan, right?" he asked.

The guy peered under the brim of the hat she had pulled low over her eyes.

"I'm a huge fan," he said, reaching out as if to touch her shoulder.

My instincts kicked in. Before I even realized it, I had grabbed the man’s hand.

"Huh? Who are you?" the man asked, startled.

Aoyama-san answered for me. "My manager."

Since we hadn't been talking, the guy must have assumed she was alone.

"Manager? You seem more like a guard dog..." The man gave a strained laugh, looking down at my grip. I realized I might be squeezing a bit too hard. "Hey, don't look at me like that. I'm in the industry too."

Aoyama-san glanced at me from the corner of her eye. "Hananome-kun. House."

Being the loyal dog I was, I obediently let go.

"I'm an actor," the man said, giving us his stage name and showing us his agency's homepage on his phone.

The name seemed to ring a bell for Aoyama-san. "Wait... were you on that romance reality show?"

The man’s face lit up. "That's the one!"

Apparently, Akahoshi had been watching it in the shared house living room, and Aoyama-san had caught a bit of it.

"I only saw the first episode, though."

"Hey, just knowing who I am is enough!" The actor began regaling her with "behind-the-scenes" stories from the show.

Seeing the man’s profile over Aoyama-san’s shoulder, I had to admit he was good-looking. His hair was stylishly permed, and his clothes were sharp. He was the kind of guy you’d never see at school—the kind of person who naturally gravitates toward show business.

Feeling it would be uncouth to butt into a conversation between an actor and an idol, I decided to search his name on my phone instead. His filmography included several famous titles even I recognized. He had a solid career and looked to be in his late twenties.

After a few minutes of that awkward, stiff conversation typical of a first meeting, the actor leaned in.

"I'm actually a fan of Capsule Planets," he said. "But you’re my absolute favorite, Sorano-chan."

"Me?"

The actor must have sensed something in her reaction. "Are you worried about that stuff trending on social media?"

"It's not that, exactly..."

"It’s true that most male fans go for Yoruno or Akahoshi-chan, while you get more of the girls," he said smoothly. "But I like you the best. I think the boyish thing you’ve got going on is great."

He said it with such effortless charm, his face looking like a still from a movie. Being told "I like you" so directly clearly made Aoyama-san blush.

"If you ever need advice, let me know. I started in this industry as a teen, so I’ve been around the block a few times." He pulled out his phone, then gave a rueful smile. "Actually, maybe we should skip the contact exchange. Your guard dog over there is glaring at me."

"I am not glaring!" I protested.

This whole "cool, sophisticated guy vs. the jealous brat" dynamic was incredibly annoying.

"Surely just following each other on social media is fine, right? Everyone does it," the actor said reasonably. "My agency has an idol group too. I could introduce you. It’s always good to have horizontal connections in this business."

Aoyama-san looked at me, her face asking What should I do?

"I guess... if it's just that, it's fine," I grumbled.

The two of them followed each other right then and there. After the man left, I took a sip of my coffee. It tasted more bitter than usual.

"If this were a drama," Aoyama-san noted, "you’d be the unrefined guy who’s jealous of the handsome lead."

"I've created a monster," I muttered. "You're learning all the wrong things!"

From that day on, the actor began posting praise for Aoyama-san on social media. He’d quote-tweet her or the Capsule Planets official account, calling her cute, amazing, or saying how much he loved her.

As her manager, I kept a close eye on his feed. Strictly for work, of course. It wasn't like I was grinding my teeth at the gap in "adult charm" between us, looking for some dirt to dig up. Definitely not.

A few days later, while we were on the train, I caught a glimpse of Aoyama-san’s screen. She’d received a Direct Message from the actor. He was inviting her to a small dinner party with some of the girls from his agency. It was in Tokyo, on a day she happened to have off.

My gut told me she shouldn't go. But idols have private lives too, and since he was a fellow professional and other girls would be there, I felt like I didn't have the right to interfere. More than anything, I had this weird sense of pride—if I stopped her, I’d look like some overbearing, controlling boyfriend.

In the end, I pretended I hadn't seen a thing. But looking back, I should have just been a dork. I should have been honest and told her, "Don't go!"

◇

The day of the actor's dinner party arrived.

In the late afternoon, I was outside my house, watering the plants. The shared house and my own place sat on a single, fairly large plot of land. Between the two buildings was a garden-like space where several flower pots had recently appeared.

"Grow big and strong, little guys," I muttered, tilting the watering can.

That’s when Aoyama-san stepped out of the shared house.

"Going somewhere?" I asked.

"Yeah," she replied, looking a bit bashful. I immediately saw why.

Unlike her usual style, she was dressed in something distinctly "girly"—the kind of outfit Yoruno or Akahoshi would wear. Her earlier words echoed in my mind.

“I’m a girl too, you know.”

And now, here was Aoyama-san, dressed in a feminine outfit, shyly fiddling with her bangs. Maybe I should have told her she looked good in that style. Or maybe I should have been like that actor and told her I preferred her boyish look.

But neither felt right, so I said nothing.

"Well, I'm off," she said.

"Yeah. Have a good time."

I didn't ask where she was going; I just watched her leave. I could already imagine that actor seeing her in that outfit and telling her she was cute, or that he loved it. The image made me...

"Maybe I really should've stopped her... but then again, maybe Manager Hananome is just worrying too much..."

As I stood there moping, I realized a man in a suit was standing next to me. It was Kotora. He looked at the watering can in my hand.

"What exactly are you doing?" he asked.

"Watering the morning glories. Yoruno and the others decided we had space here, so they wanted to grow some flowers."

Kotora looked at the five pots. "You’re really doing the whole idol manager thing, aren't you?"

"I'm more of a morning glory caretaker."

"Well, I have an update for that caretaker," Kotora said. "Remember when we talked about that 'Deliveryman'—the transporter who was doing the kidnapping?"

"Yeah."

"Word on the street is that there are other... 'specialists' working the idol circuit. Shady operators who take on dirty jobs."

"Oh?"

In the underground, there were people who specialized in specific crimes while maintaining a legitimate front. The transporters I’d thrashed were the Deliverymen. Then there were the Locksmiths—burglars who worked as food delivery drivers to scout locations and could steal anything from even the most secure spots. There were even "Falling Housewives"—hitwomen who killed targets by dropping objects from high-rise balconies.

And when it came to idols...

"Lately, there’s been a lot of talk about the Love Brokers," Kotora said.

"Love Brokers?"

"They specialize in seducing idol girls to get dirt on them. Once they’ve got the girls hooked, they hand over the evidence of the scandal to their clients for a hefty fee."

A romantic scandal is a death blow for an idol. If you can make her fall for you, taking the incriminating photos is easy.

"But wouldn't idols be on guard against that kind of honey trap? Does it actually work?"

Kotora nodded. "The Deliverymen you beat up and my drinking buddy, the Locksmith, are professionals. This Love Broker guy is small-time—a real bottom-feeder—but his success rate is surprisingly high. You know why? Because the bastard is actually in the industry."

"Wait..."

"Think about it. It’s normal for industry people to follow each other on social media. From there, they move to DMs and start private conversations."

"I've heard this story before..."

"He’s a failed actor, apparently. Total hack."

"I think I’ve seen this movie..."

"He only ever gets bit parts as an extra, but he uses his credits in famous dramas to trick people. Lately, he’s been on some romance reality show, and it’s given him enough of a boost to get cocky again."

"Ah..."

"A washed-up veteran, essentially."

Apparently, he started out by befriending rookie girls and taking them to drinking parties with wealthy presidents to earn a bit of pocket change.

"Eventually, he got sucked into a circle of well-funded villains. He probably thinks he’s the one in charge, but he’s just a pawn. Common story. Anyway, just make sure those young ladies don't get near characters like that."

Kotora looked at my face. "Something wrong?"

"Well, actually..."

I explained how a guy fitting that description had approached Aoyama-san and that she was currently on her way to a dinner party he was hosting.

"That’s bad," Kotora said flatly. "Even if he can't seduce her, he can just get her drunk and snap a few photos. That’s enough for blackmail." He shrugged. "But it’ll be fine. If your bike is still in the shop, call Okuma. He can drive you there in the company car. That guy’s a beast in a fight. It’ll be over in minutes."

"What about you?"

"I’m going back to work. I’m busy."

"Cold..."

"I’ve done my duty," Kotora said. "Besides... for someone like me to go out and settle things personally... that’s a bit 'old-fashioned', isn't it?"

The times had changed since my father’s day. I’d said that to Kotora every chance I got, and clearly, it had stung. A sharp, prickly tension hung between us.

Then, a cheerful voice broke the air.

"Aww, thanks for watering them!"

It was Yoruno and the others. They were returning from an outing, looking completely innocent and carefree.

"Where were you guys?" I asked, looking away from Kotora and trying to sound normal.

Tsukishima-san held up a shopping bag. "We went to buy flower seedlings. If we only have morning glories, it looks like a summer vacation homework project."

"I thought that from the beginning," I muttered.

"I got an anemone,"

It seemed they’d all bought seedlings that matched their colors. Tsukishima-san had white anemones, Akahoshi had pink tulips, and Yakumo had purple bellflowers.

"And Yoruno got mint?" I asked. I couldn't imagine a green flower, so I figured she’d just gone for the herb.

"The home center didn't have mint seedlings," Yoruno said with a straight face. "So everyone told me to get this instead." She held up her bag.

"That’s a cactus."

"I wanted a cute flower too!" Yoruno pouted.

"Cactuses bloom too, if you're patient and take care of them," I said, then noticed she had another seedling. "What’s that one?"

Yoruno gave me a bright smile. "It’s for Sorano-chan. A blue pansy."

I remembered how Aoyama-san seemed to be struggling with her color. But...

"Sorano-chan loves blue," Yoruno said. She looked at me with those glass-like eyes of hers. Her gaze felt like it could pierce right through me and see all the way to the other side of the planet. "Sorano-chan loves blue. If she didn't, she wouldn't have made it her color."

For a second, it felt like Yoruno could see everything—like she was looking down at the world from the stage. But the atmosphere vanished instantly. She went back to her usual self and tilted her head at Kotora. "A guest?"

I introduced him. "He worked with my old man. He’s at an ad agency now."

"Ad agency is a bit of a stretch. My work is quite dull," Kotora said, adopting the polite tone of a salaryman. "I promote local amusement parks that are losing visitors. I’d love for you to come, but the stage is far too small. You girls should be doing much bigger jobs than pro-bono work for me."

"An amusement park? I think I’d like to sing there," Akahoshi said. "There would be lots of kids. It sounds fun."

"I like amusement parks too," Yakumo added with a smile. "It would be nice to play there together after we’re done singing."

The girls started getting excited. "Hey, Hananome! If we sang at an amusement park, it would be great promotion, wouldn't it?"

"I mean, yeah," I replied.

"Thank you," Kotora said, though he clearly didn't take them seriously. He likely thought it was just politeness. Capsule Planets was aiming for arenas and domes; they didn't have time for local parks.

"We’re not lying," Yoruno said. "We can sing there. The size of the stage doesn't matter. if it's a wonderful place, we can sing. It’s not a lie."

Usually, these girls were total klutzes—soft and squishy. But they possessed a directness, a passion... a genuine, soul-deep seriousness. They didn't show it to the world, and they didn't often show it to me, but it was there. That was why they were so captivating on stage.

I felt like I’d caught a glimpse of the sparkle in their hearts.

"Well, I’m beat," Kotora muttered, scratching his head. He looked at me. "Shall we go, then?"

He straightened his tie.

"Time for Yamakawa Kotora to show off a little."

◇

"Wait, who are you guys?" the failed actor stammered.

We gave our answers in unison.

"A salaryman passing by."

"A realtor on a sales call."

"An idol caretaker."

We were in a small bar in a building downtown. The sign at the entrance was tiny; it wasn't the kind of place that wanted walk-in customers. Okuma had told me these kinds of private bars survived solely on introductions. In prime real estate, these spots were everywhere.

After talking to the girls, I’d called Okuma, and he’d floor-it in the company car. We’d arrived before Aoyama-san. Inside the cramped bar were six men.

There was a counter and a few small tables. They seemed to be in the middle of preparing; food was being laid out. The men, including the failed actor, all had a "cool" vibe, but among the slender types were a few who looked genuinely dangerous. It was a classic "fixer" setup.

"Well, we’ve made our grand entrance. Now what?" I looked the men over, thinking.

The actor looked confused. "Get out. You weren't invited."

I ignored him, my eyes landing on the champagne bottles on the table. "I can't have you giving alcohol to a member of The Planets."

"This is for us. The girls are coming later," the actor said, trying to regain his composure and sound professional. "Even as a manager, you can't control their private lives to that extent."

"I heard you’re a Love Broker," Kotora said bluntly. "Seducing idols just to leak the dirt."

The room went cold. The men stood up from their chairs, a murderous aura filling the air. Okuma started rolling up his sleeves with a grin.

"Don't touch them," I said to Kotora and Okuma. I turned back to the actor. "We didn't come here to start a fight. I don't care who hired you. I just want you to stay away from Aoyama-san. Consider this a polite request."

"Just leave," another man said, stepping toward me. He had his hands in his pockets and was slouching, leaning his face uncomfortably close to mine. It was a provocative stance—the stance of someone who felt safe. And he was right to feel that way, because I had come here determined not to use my fists. "And if you're asking for a favor, you should watch your tone. Get on your knees. Say 'please'."

"Ittetsu-san..." Kotora’s brow furrowed. I held up a hand to stop him.

"If that’s all it takes, it’s a small price to pay."

I started to bow my head. But then came the laughter. And then, I felt something cold and wet. Someone had poured a bottle of beer over my head.

"You think we’d just say 'okay' because you asked nicely? Take your salaryman friend and get out, you clueless brat."

One of them was even filming me on his phone.

I looked up. Kotora and Okuma were giving me I-told-you-so looks.

"It’s fine," I said, pointing toward the door. "I didn't want to tell Aoyama-san about this, but I’ll just have to explain everything to her."

As I turned to leave, the man who’d poured the beer grabbed my shoulder. "Let’s not do that," he said. "If you get in our way, things are gonna get painful. Besides, we’re looking forward to drinking with Sorano-chan. She’s gonna get nice and drunk, and then we’re gonna have some fun—"

The man was still laughing when I grabbed the side of his head and slammed it into the table.

"Wait, that was... uh..."

I let go quickly, but the tabletop had split in half. The man was on the floor, groaning and clutching his bleeding nose.

"I think my 'loyal dog' instincts are getting too strong... my body just moved on its own..."

"That’s a bit of a stretch, sir," Okuma noted. "It’s quite simple, Ittetsu-san. You were angry. You got angry because they said something disgusting about a precious member of your group. That’s all there is to it. Now, we don't have time for talk."

With one of their comrades down, the rest of the room went into combat mode.

The first to move was a man with a buzz cut and a lean, athletic build. He hopped in place, throwing a few testing jabs that whistled through the air. A boxer.

"We’re gonna put you in the hospital, and it’s gonna be self-defense," he sneered. "You swung first."

"I'll handle this," Okuma said, stepping forward. But Kotora was faster.

"You’ve got some nerve pouring beer on our Boss," Kotora growled, charging in without hesitation.

The boxer stepped in with his left and threw a sharp jab.

"You're gonna pay for that," Kotora said, slipping the jab and grabbing the man by the collar, throwing him across the room. "Did you say 'self-defense'?" Kotora laughed. "You’re looking for an excuse? An 'okay' from your mommy before you can fight? You need the moral high ground just to throw a punch?"

The boxer scrambled up and threw a one-two. Kotora caught the heavy right cross in his bare palm.

"You were planning to do something evil, weren't you? Then it’s just a matter of whether you do it or you don't. I decided today that whether I’m right or wrong, I’m gonna crush anyone who gets in those girls' way. What about you? You gonna run a public opinion poll before you decide to fight back?"

The room exploded. The boxer wrenched his hand free and grabbed a chair, swinging it at Kotora’s head.

"Fine by me! This isn't a sport!" Kotora caught the chair, ripped it away, and smashed it over the man’s head without mercy.

Meanwhile, the other men swarmed us. In the tiny bar, it became a chaotic brawl.

The man I’d slammed into the table lunged at me with a fork, his nose still bleeding. I kicked his wrist, sending the fork flying into the air. I followed up with a kick to his knee, a punch to his ribs, and another to his cheek. I caught the fork as it fell and placed it neatly back on a table.

As the bloody-nosed guy collapsed, a massive brute of a man tried to tackle me. But it wasn't a clean tackle; he was holding a broken beer bottle. I caught both of his wrists just before the jagged glass reached my skin.

"So you know how to fight dirty," I noted.

The guy was strong. He pressed his weight into me, trying to force the glass forward. I met his strength with my own.

"I don't mind a bit of wrestling!"

The man’s eyes widened as I started pushing him back. I hoisted his massive frame into the air. On the floor beneath him lay the shards of the bottle he’d broken earlier.

"Hey, stop—!"

"This is much kinder than letting you stab me."

I slammed the big man onto the glass-covered floor. He let out a pathetic shriek.

Across the room, Kotora had the boxer by the face, squeezing with one hand. Okuma was just standing there, his sheer presence enough to freeze the man in front of him. I kicked that man, sending him sliding across the floor toward the back of the room.

There, the failed actor and a nondescript man in black glasses were watching with terrified expressions.

"Time to talk," I said, approaching them. "I want to know who hired you, and I want to know about these 'scary people' backing you up."

But then, the back door swung open. A man with a scarred forehead and a messy suit stepped in. He gestured for the actor and the glasses-guy to run.

"Get out of here. Now."

"Hey, wait!" I tried to go after them, but the scarred man blocked my path. I tried to grab his lapels, but he parried my hands with professional ease. We traded blows—a blur of movement. His strikes were fast, heavy, and rattled my bones even when I blocked.

"Watch yourself," Kotora called out. "He's a pro."

A "pro"—meaning he was from the same world as Kotora and Okuma.

I steeled myself and moved in, but the man dropped low. It was a big, telegraphed movement. I crossed my arms in front of my face to guard.

The man unleashed a kick with the power of an iron bar. It shattered my guard and caught me clean in the face, sending me flying backward. I crashed into the bar counter, and a rain of glasses and whiskey bottles fell onto my head.

"You're gonna get it now!" I growled, shaking off the daze and standing up.

But by then, the man with the scar was gone, having slipped out the back door.

The kick and the escape had been executed with surgical precision. As I stared at the open back door, the heat began to drain from my skin. I looked around the room. Broken bottles, smashed furniture, and unconscious men were everywhere. It looked like a tornado had passed through.

I scratched my head. "This... is a bit much."

"Who cares?" Kotora said. He pulled an ashtray off the counter and lit a cigarette. "You wanted to protect that blue-haired girl. You did it. That's all that matters."

"I know, but... this way of doing things..."

"Is 'old-fashioned'?" Kotora finished. He looked at me with a sharp, piercing gaze. "Trends and eras... they don't matter. Even if the times change, even if the world points a finger at you... aren't there things you just can't compromise on?"

"Okay, okay," Okuma said, stepping between us. "Ittetsu-san, let’s get out of here. It’ll be a disaster if Aoyama-chan sees this."

He led me out of the building.

The sun was setting, and the air was much cooler than it had been at noon. The street was peaceful, and finally, the tension in my shoulders began to fade.

"Kotora doesn't mean any harm," Okuma said with his usual smile. "It’s just... he doesn't want you to deny your father or everything your father did. Because he loved your old man."

"I figured."

"Do you know why Kotora only takes jobs promoting local amusement parks?"

I shook my head. "He never mentioned it."

"When the Family was disbanded, your father told him something. He told Kotora he was a man now, so he should spend his life doing things that made him happy—to give back to the world that way."

"I remember he said he grew up in an orphanage."

"His last warm memory of his mother was at an amusement park."

"So he’s doing it for the kids? Following my father's words to the letter."

"Yeah." Okuma looked at the building. "In his mind, the Hananome Family never ended. He’s still fighting his own battle. He’s a clumsy guy like that." Okuma started to head back inside. "I’ll clean up the mess. If Aoyama-chan shows up, make up an excuse and send her away. Those girls are better off not knowing this world exists, right?"

"Yeah."

As Okuma went back inside, I slapped my cheeks to wake myself up. I’d worry about my father later. Right now, it was about Aoyama-san.

How was I going to explain my presence here? What lie could I tell to get her to go home?

What am I gonna do?

That’s when my phone buzzed. It was Aoyama-san. I hit the answer button.

"Hello? Aoyama-san? Is everything okay?"

“Hananome-kun? Um... I’m actually a little lost.”

It seemed the possibility of Aoyama-san ever reaching this bar had been zero from the start.

"I got kicked in the face for nothing," I whispered.

“Huh? Did you say something?”

"Nothing. I'll come get you, like always. Where are you?"

“Let’s see... I can see a beach and the ocean.”

"You've left Tokyo entirely!"

That was Aoyama-san for you.

◇

Aoyama-san was standing on the moonlit beach, the silver light dancing off the waves. When she spotted me, she gave a small wave. As I got closer, I noticed she was barefoot.

"You're late, Hananome-kun," she noted.

"My usual bike is in the shop. I had to take a loaner." I gestured toward the bike I’d parked on the coastal road.

"Is that... the kind of bike newspaper delivery guys use?"

"Yeah. It’s got zero pickup."

"I see. So you worked really hard to get here on that tiny thing." A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes.

"You never had any intention of going to that party, did you?" I asked, the realization finally sinking in.

"I was going to, but my gut told me it was a bad idea." She pouted slightly, making a show of being annoyed. "Though I did think you might come chasing after me!"

"Are you serious?!"

I slumped, my strength deserting me. In the end, these five were invincible idols. No matter the pinch, no matter the wall in their way, they’d probably find a way to vault right over it like this. I’d gotten kicked in the face for nothing, but seeing Aoyama-san looking so energetic made it hard to stay annoyed.

Then, I noticed something that had been bugging me. "Aoyama-san, your hair... it’s long."

Her hair wasn't a pixie cut anymore; it fell all the way to her shoulders.

"It grows fast, doesn't it?"

"There's no way it grows that fast. Is that a wig?"

"Bingo." Apparently, a stylist friend of hers had hooked her up. "So, what do you think?"

I looked her over from head to toe. I didn't hesitate; I decided to trust my instincts, just like Yoruno and Aoyama-san did. I gave it to her straight.

"It doesn't suit you at all. Your usual look is a thousand times better."

Aoyama-san stared at me with a blank face for a moment, then her expression softened into a warm smile. She stepped up beside me and took my hand.

"Let’s walk for a bit," she said.

◇

We walked along the water’s edge, our hands joined.

"You know, I actually think my short hair and the color blue are cute," Aoyama-san said softly.

That Celebrity Chihuahua CEO account had labeled her the "boyish archetype," and that failed actor had said he liked her "cool side."

But...

"I've never once thought of you as 'one of the boys', Aoyama-san," I said.

"Mm." She nodded, squeezing my hand tighter. I looked down at our interlaced fingers. This was bad. This felt very, very bad for my health.

"Is something wrong?" she asked with a perfectly innocent face.

"I mean... do you do this with Maya, too?"

"Huh?"

"The hand-holding. The... closeness."

"You gave her a piggyback ride, didn't you?"

I choked. "How did you know about that?"

"Hmph. So you really did. Maya was talking in her sleep." Apparently, Yoruno had been napping on the sofa in the shared house living room. She’d been mumbling things like, 'Hananome, more piggybacks... hehe... I’m gonna use this as an excuse to cling to him...'

I sighed. Yoruno was a total disaster. I definitely couldn't date her. But right now, I had a more immediate problem.

"You're always going all gooey over Maya, Hananome-kun," Aoyama-san said, giving me a sidelong glance. "I'm an idol too, and I'm a girl."

"I know that. I think of you as a cute girl and a top-tier idol, believe me."

"Then tell me. What is it about me that makes you feel like I’m a girl?"

"You're testing me, aren't you?" Fine, bring it on, I thought. Managing the members' moods is part of the job. "Well, for one, your face is tiny. Your skin is amazing. When we’re standing face-to-face, you feel so petite and delicate. Even now, holding your hand... it’s so soft and fragile. It’s definitely cute."

"Fail." Aoyama-san cut me off without a second thought.

"Hey! I tried!"

"Anyone could say that stuff. It’s generic."

"You're setting the bar way too high!" I started racking my brain, thinking back on all the time I’d spent with her.

"Aha. You just made a really embarrassed face." She peered into my eyes. "Tell me what you just thought of."

"No. Absolutely not. Never." I shook my head vigorously. It was way too embarrassing. "It’ll ruin my image."

"Who cares about your image? Just say it."

We went back and forth for a while—tell me, no, tell me, no.

"If you don't tell me, I might end up falling for another shady guy," she threatened.

"I think this whole ordeal proved you’re too smart for that, Aoyama-san."

"You never know. If you're mean to me and leave an opening, someone might slip in."

She wasn't going to let me go until I said it. I sighed, looking out at the dark ocean.

"You know how everyone gets all sweaty during dance practice?" I started.

"Yeah."

"And your T-shirt sticks to you... and, well, you actually have a pretty large chest, so your bra lines show through—" My face felt like it was literally on fire, but I pushed through. "I think it’s... incredibly sexy! There, I said it!"

I looked back at her. Aoyama-san was wearing a look of pure shock. "Wow... Hananome-kun. You were looking at me with those kinds of eyes...?"

"See?! I told you this would happen!"

But a second later, she burst out laughing. "Perv! Hananome-kun, you pervert! You dirty-minded manager!" She started playfully bumping her shoulder against mine. It seemed I’d managed to clear the hurdle, somehow.

After playing around for a bit, I took off my shoes, and we walked in silence. The sound of the waves. The moon hanging in the sky. Aoyama-san looked peaceful.

"I've started to realize something lately," I said. "In school, there’s always a pattern or a formula that leads to the right answer. But in the real world, there are so many things you can't analyze with logic—things that don't fit into a neat little box."

I thought of the fans I’d seen at the live shows, waving their blue penlights. Sure, in the idol industry, there might be a "boyish archetype" slot.

But...

"Your fans—the guys and the girls—they aren't just fans of a 'type.' They’re all in love with Aoyama Sorano."

◇

It wasn't as if Aoyama-san suddenly "broke out of her shell" and took Capsule Planets to a new level. Why? Because whether she was in her shell or not, she was already incredible.

The next day at the studio, they mastered the choreography for the new song with ease.

"I made this routine insanely difficult, and you guys just... breeze through it?" The dance coach sounded almost disappointed. He was a stoic, intense-looking guy who looked like he’d be a total tyrant. "If we ever film a documentary, I’m gonna pretend you guys failed and scream at you, okay? For the cameras! Otherwise, I won't have any screen presence!"

With a "You're dismissed!", the coach left the studio. The girls immediately started chatting about going out for sweets after their workout.

However, one member was marching toward me with a terrifying expression. It was Yoruno.

"What is the meaning of this?!" she demanded, shoving her phone in my face.

It was an "exposure" account from a gossip influencer. On the screen was a photo of me and Aoyama-san holding hands as we walked along the beach. My heart skipped a beat. Did I blow it? But then I read the caption.

【The Planets' part-time roadie has a girlfriend!】

Ittetsu’s role as the manager was already known among a subset of fans, and naturally, people were worried about a guy his age being around the idols. But the comments were full of relief: 'Oh, he has a girlfriend? We’re safe.'

"Who is this?!" Yoruno pointed at the girl in the photo. Because the image was grainy and Aoyama-san was wearing the wig, it was impossible to tell who it was.

I couldn't exactly say it was Aoyama-san, so I scrambled for an excuse. "Just... a girl from my class..."

"That’s... that’s not okay! I don't think that’s okay at all!" Yoruno fumed. "We're working our hearts out here without any distractions! No romance allowed!"

"Huh?"

"As idols, we would never touch a boy!"

"Uh, right."

"And yet here you are, Hananome, holding hands with a girl..." Yoruno fell silent for a moment before whispering, "Banned... it’s banned!"

"What is?"

"Romance is banned! Hananome is banned from dating! Call this girl right now and tell her you can't hold hands anymore! Actually, stop seeing her entirely! Delete her number! Erase her from your memory!"

"Geez, Yoruno. You're intense." We weren't even dating, but she was acting like the most overbearing, high-maintenance girlfriend in history.

"Let’s just calm down for a second," I said, trying to soothe her.

"Oh, who cares?" Aoyama-san said, strolling over with a grin. "Hananome-kun is a boy, after all. He wants to play around with girls. Why shouldn't he go on a date with her once in a while?"

"N-No! He can't!" Yoruno stammered. "You're spoiling him!"

"Am I? He works so hard. Don't you think he deserves a reward every now and then?" Aoyama-san reached out and wrapped her arms around my arm.

"Wh-Whoa!" I let out a strangled noise.

Aoyama-san’s chest was pressed right against my arm. The same chest I’d seen earlier through her sweat-soaked T-shirt. She was definitely doing this on purpose.

"Thanks for everything, Hananome-kun," she purred, giving my arm a little squeeze. Then she looked at Yoruno. "By the way, Maya... Hananome-kun looks at me with pervy eyes."

"Pervy eyes?!" Yoruno’s head started spinning.

"Aoyama-san, you're antagonizing her!" I hissed.

But Aoyama-san just gave me a knowing look. "Well, Maya acts like you’re her manager. But you’re my manager too, right?"

"I'm the manager for all five of you!"

The two of them locked eyes, a silent battle raging between them. Yoruno looked like she was about to explode, and Aoyama-san wasn't backing down. This was a very, very dangerous situation.

How am I supposed to get out of this? I wondered.

Then, there was a knock at the studio door. A man in a suit stood there with a calm expression. It was Kotora.

◇

"You seem to be having fun," Kotora noted as we stepped out into the hallway.

"In a few seconds, that 'fun' is gonna turn into a nightmare," I replied. "I'm caught in a pincer move."

Kotora looked through the glass at the five girls. "Your father was the same. He was a total sucker for a pretty face. He’d help a woman out, she’d fall for him, and he’d turn into a big softie. They always felt like they had a chance with him. I remember women chasing him around, shouting, 'You're the one who made me fall for you!'"

"Was that really necessary to bring up now?"

"Nostalgia is a powerful thing." Kotora’s expression turned serious. "About the other day... I’m sorry. I said too much."

"Don't sweat it. I know where you were coming from."

"I understand how you feel, Ittetsu-san. The world moves on. Being the son of a yakuza family... I'm sure it’s brought you nothing but grief."

I thought back to my childhood. I’d make a friend at school one day, and the next day they wouldn't even look at me. Their parents had told them to stay away from the yakuza kid.

"But listen," Kotora said. "No matter what anyone says, your father was a man of honor. He was someone I was proud to follow."

He continued, his voice thick with conviction. "He never laid a finger on a civilian. He saved countless people who had nowhere else to go. He took lost causes like me and Okuma and turned us into men who could actually wear a suit and function in society."

And most importantly...

"He loved you."

My father and I never lived together, not until the very end. He’d kept his distance for my sake. He wanted me to have even the slightest chance at a normal life. I remembered what he’d said when he disbanded the family.

'Sorry for the trouble I caused you.'

His final words to me were an apology.

"Ittetsu-san, if you hate the Family, that’s your right," Kotora said. "But remember this: me and Okuma will always be here for you. Just like your father was for us."

With that, Kotora turned to leave, but he paused and looked me up and down.

"By the way, Ittetsu-san... I’ve been meaning to ask. What is with that ridiculous T-shirt? You really should try to look a bit more stylish."

I looked down at my shirt. "This? It’s fine."

It was a chaotic marble pattern of mint green, blue, pink, white, and purple. It made absolutely no sense as a fashion choice.

"For a manager of The Planets, this is the only shirt that matters."