Shibuya.
8:07 PM: Night-time...
Senkai stood outside a building at the downtown, neon lights flickering above the streets.
He looked up at the sign, Carpe deim, A bar. He sighed. Than gone inside, Music thumped faintly through the walls.
His eyebrows furrowed for a second, she can't be serious, as if summoned by a doubt, Reze stepped out from inside, Not in her usual composed campus attire.
But tonight she wore a black slip dress, simple and sharp her hair's was down. "You're late," she said.
"It's a bar," He said. "Yes," she said. "I thought you said acting lessons," He said. She nodded. "I did." Than grabbed his wrist lightly and pulled him toward the street before he could protest more.
"Don't worry.... " She said walking in front of him, than turned around and started walking backwards. "I teach you acting, I'll teach you everything you don't know of, and the things you don't know, how to do. she said, I teach you everything."
Senkai looked into her eyes for a moment like, he got pulled by a magnet. She led him the way through the alley way as she grabbed his wrist lightly, they were walking. He questioned, where are we going?"
"Trust me, she said, I told you didn't I that I will teach you things you didn't know of. He sighed. "Than leave my wrist at least, it feels weird to get pulled around like this."
She turned around and left his wrist. "Guess you are right, It does feels like I am guiding you into something I shouldn't." Instead she locked her arms with his. "This is better I guess, let's go—"
Senkai ears went red, as her body pushed against his... Hey, this is more uncomfortable, he thought. But somewhere it felt nice, walking like this her arm locked with mine, it felt like a couples walking side by side.
A moment where it felt like a noisy Tokyo disappeared, it was just her and me.
———
Until I reached the real noise, the sound of a damn music was so loud I felt like my ear drums wouldn't survive. I had my hands on my ears
"Club, Aurora."
She was giveing back nods, enjoying the music. Moving in the rhythm of the music, eyes closed, She laughed when she saw him covering his ears, leaning close so her lips brushed his cheek. "You'll get used to it, she said, her voice somehow clear despite the chaos.
She tugged him forward again—not by the wrist this time, but by the confidence in her steps—and soon the bass wasn't just noise, it was a pulse, thudding through his chest. Lights spilled across the room in waves of color, faces blurred into motion, and Tokyo shibuya returned as something alive and electric.
She pulled him onto the edge of the crowd, than placed his hands on her waist as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Feel it," she said, resting her forehead against his.
He hesitated, stiff at first, but she moved slowly, guiding him, her body syncing with his until his awkwardness melted into laughter.
He forgot to think. He forgot to worry. All he knew was the warmth of her, the way her fingers tightened in his sleeve whenever the beat dropped.
At one point, she leaned back into him, trusting, her head resting briefly against his shoulder. The closeness sent a quiet thrill through him, and almost without realizing it, his arms settled more firmly around her.
She smiled at that, eyes still closed, moving with the music as if the world had narrowed to the space between them. Every beat drew them closer, every breath shared, until the noise softened into something distant and harmless.
She turned in his arms then, slow & unhurried, her hands sliding up to his chest. "You're doing fine," she said, lips close enough that he could feel the words more than he hear them.
He laughed softly, shaking his head, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he followed her rhythm, their movements were no longer guided but mutual, natural.
When the song ended, they stayed like that for a moment longer than necessary, reluctant to break the spell. Around them people's cheered them on them, as the "DJ, changed the music as they both woke up to world around them. but for him, it felt like the night had paused just for them.
And in that pause, he realized this wasn't just his first time in a club—
It was the first time he felt completely, effortlessly present with someone else.
"See, she said. You're in a crowd, being watched, in attention. She placed her hands on his shoulders again, because of a beauty like me."
"And when you can confidently stand here, she said, beside me, I believe you can confidently act in front of any audience too." Then her voice lowered. "Just cut yourself some slack… relax sometimes."
"Let your emotions do the job, just remember a similar scene, a similar moment, of your life, that's same as the script, same as the Movie.
He chuckled. "So narcissistic, just like someone, I know." She raised an eye brow, "someone you know?" He said, "Just a guy from childhood."
"A total opposite," he said. "If I was the one to disappear into the background, he was the one the spotlight followed wherever he went. And him… I believe he was the perfect actor. He showed me how people can be controlling, manipulative—the worst sides of themselves."
She asked. "Just what kind of a friend he is?" Then she walked toward the drink counter.
"Hm... Someone harsh, maybe too direct, but not entirely bad. He said walking besides her.
Senkai leaned against the counter, opposite her, looking at the crowd. "He's cold, but somewhere, warm. He doesn't sugarcoat his words, doesn't try to blend in. But one thing is the same between us—I believe we don't bend to the world. We create and live in our own."
She ordered her drink—a vodka—then looked at him, tilting her face from beside him. "Hm… I believe the best actor is a liar."
"A liar?" he said, glancing at her. "That's something new."
"The liar is the perfect actor, he who doesn't show his emotions, can simantasionusly act for a life."
The bartender put's the drink onto the counter, she picked it up, while taking a sip, she enjoyed the burning sensation of the drink as her voice slowed. "He who is a fool, is the one perfect actor."
Then she leaned beside him. They looked at the people dancing, enjoying, partying. "Ever heard the saying? The one who is a fool lives happily, but the one who knows too much is never happy." Her voice was gentle—but sad.
———
There it was again—that monochromatic gray in her, he thought. The perfect liar… I wonder who she meant, but he knew she was just talking about herself.
"Hmm… that's true. He said, sometimes, we know too much, so we constantly worry about the future, the opinions of people around us, and the things we've done in the past."
He glanced over her. "So tell me something, Reze... does your past haunts you?" She gave a small smile. "Why do you think it haunts me? To me, my past is like a damn unfinished romantic movie—the first movie I've directed, and I'm still directing it…"
She swirled the last of her vodka, watching the ice melt as if it held the answer. "The first movie I ever directed," she repeated softly, "and I didn't know how to end it."
The bass from the dance floor pulsed through the counter, vibrating faintly against their elbows. Neon light slid across her face in streaks of blue and red—two different versions of her one fighting for dominance, and control. The confident president, the girl who spoke like as if she owned the world.
And the other one, that completely felt gray, lonely, more honest, not the perfect actress, nor a perfect liar. But emotional, ten times more imitate. Just the girl, who is the part of her own life's Movie.
"And what about the male lead? He asked quietly, did he not follow the script?"
A faint smile curved her lips. "Worse, He improvised."
"That bad?" he said, "That dangerous."
She didn't look at him when she said it. "He... lemon kanawa, was the kind of actor who never broke the character. Even when the scene was over." Her fingers tapped the glass once.
"You know those people who smile perfectly, say's the right things, stand in the right light? Everyone thinks they're honest because they look honest. Her eyes flicked to him. But they're just better at lying."
He swallowed. Something about the way she said it felt personal. Not theoretical. Not dramatic. "So what happened?" He asked.
She turned to face him fully now, stepping a little closer—not flirtatious this time, but deliberate.
"I learned." she said.
"Learned what?" he asked?
"That if I didn't want to be controlled in a someone else's story, I've had to write my own."
Then her voice turned slow and low, but sweet and soft in a way. "That's why I learned how to be like this—how to lie perfectly."
She paused for a moment, then took a sip of vodka before continuing. "I prefer control over being controlled. I made confidence my mask, playfulness my weapon, and now people think I'm reliable… when in reality, I'm just tired."
"Tired of acting, tired of the stage, tired of the people's, and now I just prefer to direct from behind the stage as the director."
"And are you happy?" He asked before he could stop himself, for a moment, her expression faltered. Just slightly, "Happiness, she said, almost amused. Is for people who don't see the whole script." He frowned. "You keep saying that, like knowing reality, and things is a curse."
"It is, she replied calmly. When you see people clearly—their fears, their weaknesses, their damn intentions—you stop believing in a pretty lies. You stop believing in romance. In the innocence."
Her gaze softened unexpectedly. "But sometimes, she added, you meet someone who doesn't know how to lie yet." His chest tightened. "You mean me?"
She didn't answer directly. Instead, she reached up and adjusted his collar, fingers brushing him lightly against his neck. It wasn't seductive, but It was… instructive. "On stage, she said, voice low but steady, you overthink. You worry about how you look. How you sound. What they think."
Her hand dropped back to her side."But just now, she continued, nodding toward the dance floor, you weren't thinking. You weren't performing. You were just feeling it remember."
He remembered. The warmth. The rhythm. Her weight leaning back into him without hesitation.
"That, she said softly, is the presence."
Than he looked at her more carefully now. "You brought me here to embarrass me did you." She corrected. "I brought you here, to overwhelm you."
He blinked.
"When you stand under the stage lights, your body panics because you are not used to gazes your mind it just automatically thinks you're being judged."
She point her finger gestured to the club around them. "But here? Everyone is being watched. Everybody is loud. No one cares about each other."
She stepped closer again, but this time there was a firmness in her posture. "If you can stand in chaos, you can stand anywhere in the world."
The song ended. Applause rose. Another beat dropped.
He studied her face—the composure, the intelligence, and the strange sadness behind it. "You're not just teaching me acting, he said slowly, are you?" She said, "No."
Then what are you teaching me?"
She hesitated. "Maybe... how to survive," she answered. The words of her hung between them. He didn't joke this time, didn't deflect it. "And what do you get out of it?" Her lips curved again—but it wasn't playful. "A better co-star I guess."
He exhaled lightly. "So this is still about Nana that two faced Red kitsune."
A flash crossed her eyes. "How did you get to know about Nana?"
"Did you really think I can't caught, that much about Nana, she bring me into this club with some intentions I've always knew that. She got me in through special exams after all at last people's do nothing without the reason,"
But I didn't care for it before whatever she was planning, cuz...
He looked at her for a second than rememberd his own intentions, how he had chased after her for the revenge of that note back than. "Forget it, he said.
"Seems like you knew about it too, but I heard from hanabi, that you still let me join the club despite knowing that, approved of me why?" she replied, "everything is about the stage."
And for a second, he felt it—the edge beneath her calm. The rivalry, the strategy, the quiet war between her and Nana that no one else had fully saw yet.
He sighed. "Why are you women always like this? Aren't you friends? What does she have against you?"
"A revenge." she said.
A revenge? He said. "Just what did you've done? I mean, if it isn't that bad, you should apologize and try to makeup. I don't have much friends so I believe you should cherish them."
"I hooked up with the man she used to like."
"Huh… then I guess it isn't negotiable," he said.
"And what if I mess up again on the stage?" She stepped back, creating just enough distance to look at him properly. "Then we try again. What else?" she said simply.
No manipulation?" No dramatic lessons?" he asked.
She tilted her head. "I'm not the villain in your story Senkai." But he wasn't sure about that.
The Music swelled again, louder this time. The crowd pressed closer around them. Neon lights fractured across the room like broken glass.
She held out her hand. "Let's have another dance, one more song." He looked at her hand, then at her face. And for the first time tonight, he noticed something subtle—she wasn't just confident.
She was watching him. Carefully, the way he usually did. As if she were testing whether he would step forward on his own. Slowly, he took her hand.
And this time, she didn't pull him.
They walked back into the crowd side by side. And somewhere between the noise and the lights—between dance, performance and truth...
The line between the acting and reality began to blur.
They danced again for the last time...
The second song didn't hit as hard as the first.
It settled in slower—less explosive, more deliberate. A steady rhythm instead of chaos. The kind of beat that didn't demand movement, but invited it.
Senkai noticed the difference immediately.
So did she.
This time, there was no sudden pull, no guiding hands forcing him into place. No instructions whispered over the noise. Just her fingers loosely intertwined with his, her pace matching his as they stepped into the shifting lights again.
For a moment, they didn't move at all.
They just stood there.
Facing each other.
The crowd flowed around them like a current splitting around stone, bodies brushing past, laughter rising and falling—but in that small space between them, there was a strange stillness.
"You're thinking again," she said, tilting her head slightly. He exhaled through his nose. "Can you blame me?"
"A little, she replied, though her tone lacked bite. You were better when you weren't." He gave a faint smile. "That's easy for you to say."
she asked quietly, "Is it?" There was something in that question—something softer than before. Not teasing. Not sharp. Honest.
The beat shifted.
This time, he moved first.
Not perfectly. Not smoothly. But intentionally. His hand found her waist again, slower than before, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to.
She didn't.
Instead, her hand rested lightly against his shoulder, her fingers curling just enough to anchor herself there. Their steps were smaller now, less about the music and more about each other—adjusting, responding, learning.
"You're improving," she murmured. "Don't sound so surprised," He said. "I'm not, she said. I just didn't expect you to listen this well." He raised an eyebrow. "You think I don't listen?"
"I think, she said, leaning in just slightly, you listen too much." Her words lingered. And He understood what she meant.
He had always been like that—observing, analyzing, reading between lines that maybe weren't even there. Trying to understand everything before taking a step forward.
But right now—
There was nothing to analyze, but Just her. Her warmth. Her presence. The quiet steadiness in the way she moved with him, not ahead, not behind. But With him.
The lights dimmed briefly, casting them into a softer shade of blue. For a second, the world looked almost calm. "You're different," he said suddenly.
She didn't react right away. "From what?"
"From how you act," he replied. "On campus. In front of others."
"That's kind of the point," she said lightly.
"No," he shook his head. "I mean… this version of you doesn't feel like acting."
That made her pause.
Just for a fraction of a second—but he felt it. The shift in her posture. The way her fingers tightened slightly against his shoulder. "Careful," she said, her voice quieter now. "You're starting to sound like you believe in things."
He said. "Maybe I do." She looked at him then. Really looked. Not the calculated glance, not the playful scan she used before. This was different. Searching. Almost cautious. "And what exactly do you think you're seeing?" she asked.
He didn't answer immediately.
Because for once, he didn't want to overthink it.
"…Someone who's tired of pretending," he said finally. The music carried on around them, but something in her expression shifted again—
subtle, almost invisible.
But not to him.
"You're wrong," she said. Yet her voice lacked conviction. He didn't argue. Instead, he adjusted his grip slightly, pulling her just a fraction closer—not forceful, not demanding. Just enough to close the space that had unconsciously grown between them.
"If I am, he said, then correct me." For a moment, she didn't move. Didn't speak.
Then—
She let out a small breath. Not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh. "…You're really troublesome," she murmured. "Been told that before," he said. "I'm sure you have," she replied. But this time, there was no edge in her tone.
Just… warmth.
The song neared its end, the rhythm slowing further, the energy of the crowd dipping into something softer, more scattered. Around them, people began to drift—some leaving the floor, others losing themselves in their own worlds.
But they stayed. Still moving, still close. And still there. And as the final notes faded, neither of them stepped away immediately.
Not out of hesitation.
But because neither of them seemed to want to be the first to break it. And eventually, she did.
Just slightly. Enough to look at him properly again. "You didn't embarrass yourself," she said.
"High praise," he said.
"Don't get used to it."
He smiled faintly. "I won't."
A brief silence settled between them—comfortable this time.
Then she stepped back fully. But her hand didn't leave his right away. "…That's enough for today," she said. "Acting lesson over?" He asked.
She nodded. "For now." He glanced around the club—the lights, the noise, the endless motion of people chasing moments. "…Does it always feel like this?" he asked.
"Like what?" she asked.
He thought for a second. "Like you're somewhere between real and not." She studied him again. Then, slowly—
"…Only when you stop trying to decide which one it is," she replied. Her fingers slipped from his. And just like that—
The name has finally came out, Lemon kannawa for him to be aware of. If he really is planning to get her.
———
To be continue..
———