Beneath the Mask

[Ai POV]

My legs burned pleasantly as I jogged back to the apartment, the rhythm of my strides matching the quick beat of my heart. Akira's surprised face when I suggested a bribe, the way his eyes shined when talking about his "hobby"... It was ridiculous how much those small moments replayed in my head.

It wasn't just that – there was something about him, an intensity behind the easy charm, that both intrigued and unsettled me. 

I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts of my neighbor. Work came first, always. I had practice with the girls this afternoon, followed by a meeting with the president to discuss an upcoming tv show opportunity. No room for distractions.

Yet, as I unlocked my apartment door, that sense of quiet excitement lingered. "Mama!" Ruby's shriek of delight nearly burst my eardrums as she rocketed out of the living room and into a full-force hug. 

Aqua tilted his head. "You were gone for a long time today."

"And I made you a drawing!" Ruby beamed, shoving a slightly crumpled piece of paper into my hand.

"Wow, Ruby, this dinosaur is amazing!" I exclaimed, holding the drawing aloft. "Let's go hang this masterpiece on the fridge."

We retreated into the kitchen, the warmth of their presence chasing away any lingering thoughts of music and mysterious neighbors. Yet, a subtle change lingered. Was it too much to dream of a life where moments of real connection like the one with Akira weren't a rare, fleeting exception? 

Aqua broke into my thoughts. "Mama, you seem happy." His gaze was clear, searching.

I forced a playful smile, ruffling his hair. "Is it so strange for your mama to have a good morning?"

He tilted his head, a miniature frown creasing his brow. "Not strange..." he paused, "Just... different. Did you meet someone new, by chance?"

His innocent question caught me off guard. "Well, I did sort of have a nice chat with someone," I admitted, a hint of a blush warming my cheeks.

Before he could interrogate me further, I quickly added, 

"Now, how about we watch a movie before I leave?"

He let the subject drop for now, but somehow I knew it wasn't over. Aqua, with his quiet observations and gentle wisdom, saw too much. I could only hope he wouldn't sense how flustered I was by the fact that the "someone" making me smile, making today truly different, was the guy living one door down.

As the movie credits rolled, I glanced at the clock, a jolt of panic seizing me. "Oh no, I'm going to be late for practice!" I leapt up, nearly tripping over a stray toy in my haste.

"Aqua, Ruby, be good for Miyako, okay?" I called, hastily grabbing my bag and slipping on my shoes. 

Their chorused "Okay!" followed me out the door as I raced down the stairs, my mind already whirling with the choreography I needed to perfect.

The studio was a hive of activity when I arrived, the other B-Komachi girls stretching and chatting. 

"Ai!" Eri bounded over, her pigtails bobbing. "You're late! That's not like you."

I forced a laugh, dropping my bag and starting my stretches. "Lost track of time. Sorry!" 

Eri's eyes softened. "You know how Sawada-san gets when we're not perfect."

"I know. Let's get to work."

We took our positions, the opening notes of our new single blaring from the speakers. As I moved through the steps, my body falling into the familiar rhythm, my mind began to wander.

Akira's face flashed before me, the intensity in his eyes as he spoke about his music. The way he seemed to see through my idol mask, to the real me beneath. It was unnerving... and thrilling.

"Ai-chan, you missed the cue!" Maho's sharp voice snapped me back to reality. I stumbled, my cheeks burning.

"Sorry, sorry! Let's take it from the top."

As we started again, I forced myself to focus, to push thoughts of Akira and the strange pull I felt towards him out of my mind. This was my life, my dream. I couldn't afford distractions, no matter how intriguing they might be.

The practice seemed to drag on forever, each repetition of the steps feeling more mechanical than the last. By the time Sawada-san finally called it a day, my muscles were screaming and my mind was reeling.

Leaving the studio, my body exhausted but my mind buzzing, I felt a new resolve settle over me. I didn't know what the future held, didn't know if the connection I felt with Akira was real or just a product of my own desperate longing.

But I knew I had to find out. For myself, for the girl beneath the idol mask. And maybe, just maybe, for the chance at something real amidst the glittering lie of my life.

As I walked into my apartment, the exhaustion from practice was quickly replaced by a sense of nervous anticipation. President Ichigo was already seated on the couch, his stern face illuminated by the glow of his tablet.

"Ai," he greeted, his tone businesslike as usual. "I hope practice went well."

I nodded, putting on my best professional smile. "Of course, President. We're ready for the concert this weekend."

He grunted in approval, then gestured for me to sit. As I settled into the chair across from him, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity. One-on-one meetings with the President were rare, and usually meant something important was happening.

"I'll get straight to the point," Ichigo said, setting his tablet aside. "We've been offered a minor role for you in a new TV drama."

My eyebrows lifted in surprise. A minor role? It wasn't the big breakthrough I'd been hoping for, but it was still an opportunity.

"That's great, what's the drama about?"

Ichigo slid a script across the coffee table. "It's a slice-of-life series set in a high school. You'd be playing the friend of the female lead."

I picked up the script, skimming the first few pages. The character seemed bubbly and supportive, a typical sidekick role. It wasn't exactly challenging, but it was a start.

"It's a good role," Ichigo said, watching me closely. "A chance to show the world Ai. Not Ai of B-Komachi."

I nodded, setting the script back down. "I'll definitely do it. Thank you for bringing it to me."

Ichigo leaned back, a hint of a smile on his usually stoic face. "Of course. We're always looking for ways to expand your career."

I hesitated, then decided to seize the moment. "Speaking of the concert this weekend... I was wondering if I could get a front row ticket for someone."

Ichigo's eyebrows shot up. "A front row ticket? Those are usually reserved for VIPs and industry connections."

I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "I know. But this is... it's important."

His eyes narrowed. "Important how? Who is this ticket for, Ai?"

I squirmed under his gaze, feeling like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "It's... it's for my neighbor."

"Your neighbor we met this week." Ichigo's tone was flat, disbelieving.

I rushed to explain. "Apparently he's a musician, and we got to talking about music and performances and... I just thought it would be nice to invite him to the concert."

Ichigo stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to my surprise, he let out a short, sharp laugh.

"Ai Hoshino, are you developing a crush on your neighbor?"

I felt my face flush, my heart skipping a beat. "What? No! It's not like that. He's just... he's interesting. And I think he'd appreciate the show."

Ichigo shook his head, still chuckling. "Ai, Ai, Ai. You know the rules. No personal entanglements, especially not with civilians."

I bristled at his condescending tone. "It's not an entanglement. It's a friendly gesture. And since when is making a fan a bad thing?"

He sobered, his eyes locking with mine. "Since it risks exposing your private life. You know how fragile your situation is. One wrong move, one hint of scandal, and everything you've worked for could come crashing down."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling heavy in my stomach. He was right, of course. I had too much to lose to be reckless.

But the thought of Akira's face, of the genuine interest and understanding in his eyes when we talked about music... I couldn't just let that go.

"Please, President," I said softly, hating the note of pleading in my voice. "Just one ticket. I'll be careful. I won't let it interfere with my work."

Ichigo sighed, rubbing his temple and pulling out something from his bag. "One ticket. And he sits with the general audience, not the VIPs. I don't want any extra attention drawn to this."

Relief washed over me, followed by a giddy rush of excitement. "Thank you. I promise, you won't regret it."

As Ichigo left, I clutched the script and ticket to my chest, my mind already racing ahead to the concert, to the moment when Akira would see me perform.

It was a risk, I knew. A gamble on a connection that might not even be real.

But something told me it was a risk worth taking. For the chance at something genuine, something that went beyond the glittering facade of my idol life.

Hope faltered slightly when I stood in front of Akira's door. What was I doing? This was impulsive, maybe even a little crazy. Should I call instead, warn him I was coming? No, I don't even have his number. Either way, wasn't this just one simple ticket? Surely Ichigo had overreacted, as usual.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I rapped my knuckles against the door. Once. Twice. Silence. A flicker of disappointment washed over me. Maybe he wasn't even home. As I turned to go...

"Hold on a second," came a slightly muffled voice from within.

The door swung open and my breath caught in my throat. Akira stood there, hair damp and tousled, a sheen of sweat highlighting the sculpted lines of his bare chest. He wore only loose sweatpants hanging low on his hips, revealing a flash of a defined v-line that sent a jolt straight to my knees. He blinked, startled.

"A-Ai?" He stammered, and it was almost comical. The cool, collected enigma from the cafe seemed flustered, and a mischievous part of me delighted in it.

"Surprised?" I managed, my voice a touch higher than usual as I held out the ticket. "I got you a ticket for the concert."

His eyes widened as he took in the ticket, then flicked back to me. "Already?" A flicker of surprise, maybe confusion, crossed his face before he quickly regained his composure.

"Well, that breakfast talk wasn't all lies," I said, aiming for casual. "You said you were interested in seeing the inner workings of the idol machine." I paused, then blurted out, "Here's your chance."

"This is... unexpected," he said slowly. Then, a crooked grin spread across his face. "But unexpected in a good way. Thanks." He ran a hand through his damp blonde hair and winced. "Sorry I'm a bit... unprepared. Would you like to come in for a bit?"

Flustered, I found myself nodding. I stepped inside, trying not to stare openly. His apartment had a different energy compared to mine. A little messy, but in a lived-in way, with music equipment scattered across the living room. It felt...real.

"So," he said, closing the door and giving me a slightly self-conscious smile. "Let me throw on a shirt and I'll make some tea, yeah?"

"Sure," I managed. I watched him disappear into what I presumed was his bedroom, trying and failing to stifle a giddy grin. Ichigo would be horrified if he saw me now.

When Akira returned, fully clothed thankfully, a faint hint of embarrassment lingered. He gestured to a worn armchair as he disappeared into the kitchen.

"You're really doing this," he said, setting a steaming mug in front of me.

"Why not?" I took a cautious sip. "You have to admit, it's a bit intriguing, right?" I watched the play of emotions on his face. Curiosity, wariness, and…something else. Attraction, perhaps?

"Maybe," he admitted. "But there's more to this than intrigue, don't you think?"

I met his gaze head-on. "Let's just say...I have my reasons." A playful smirk touched my lips. "And I'm curious to see yours."

Instead of pushing further, he reached for his phone. "How about we exchange numbers?" He held it out. "So you can send me details about the concert."

"And for future coffee chats, maybe?" I asked, as I punched in my digits.

He laughed, the sound surprisingly warm. "Maybe."

Later, back in my apartment, I replayed our encounter. His bare chest, the blush that had crept up his neck when our fingers brushed while exchanging phones... It was ridiculous. Unprofessional. Dangerous.

Yet, as I curled up under a blanket, his face flashed in my mind and a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the tea. I was playing a dangerous game, and I had a feeling I was already all-in.