Haru didn't sleep much that night.
He lay in his bunk, eyes fixed on the faint ceiling glow of the dorm light. His heart wouldn't slow down. Every time he blinked, he saw it again—those black, shimmering scales glinting beneath Aoki's skin, like fragments of starlight trapped in flesh.
A dragon.
A carnivorous spirit.
And Aoki had confessed—quietly, as if it had taken everything in him to say it.Haru pressed a hand to his chest. He didn't know what he was feeling. It wasn't fear that would probably be expected between a herbivorous and carnivorous spirit, not exactly. More like… awe. Confusion. Warmth. It tangled together until it was impossible to separate one from the other.
When morning came, the exhaustion sat heavy behind his eyes, but he forced himself up. He couldn't afford to fall behind now.
The second-round rehearsals had officially begun.
***
Their new group—Ren, Haru, Shiro, Daiki, and Kenta—filed into Studio 3 with tired smiles and sore bodies. Mizuki had replaced Sayaka for the week, overseeing both dance and performance this time.
"Welcome to your first team evaluation," she said crisply. "You've had two days to learn the routine. Let's see what's sticking."
Ren leaned over, whispering, "I already want to cry."
Haru smiled faintly. "We've survived worse."
The music started. "Echoes of Me" filled the room, the rhythmic 5/4 pattern tripping them at first—but then something clicked. They began to move in sync. Shiro's sharpness anchored the formation; Ren's energy pulled the group forward. Haru, centered between them, carried the melody line with quiet strength.
When the final note faded, Mizuki didn't speak for a long moment. Then she said, "Better than I expected."
"Was that praise?" Daiki whispered.
"Take it before she changes her mind," Kenta murmured.
Mizuki arched a brow. "Don't get comfortable. Clean your transitions, especially pre-chorus to bridge. Aoki will be observing your next session."
Haru's stomach fluttered at that. He wasn't ready to see him again—not after last night.
***
The next afternoon, Aoki appeared, as promised. Clipboard in hand, expression unreadable. The light caught on the edge of his collar where those hidden scales might have been.Haru's breath hitched.
He tried to focus on the choreography. On timing, balance, precision—anything but the memory of that night.
But every time Aoki spoke, his pulse jumped.
"Ren, lead with your right foot, not your left," Aoki said. "Haru, your voice drops out on the harmony shift—support it from your diaphragm, not your throat."
"Yes," Haru said quickly, almost too quickly.
"Again," Aoki ordered.
They ran the verse again and again until Haru's legs trembled and his breath came ragged. Still, he pushed through, voice steady even as sweat trickled down his neck. When the final chord ended, Aoki gave a small nod.
"That's enough," he said. "You're improving."
The group dispersed for water breaks, but Aoki lingered by the piano, flipping through his notes. Haru hesitated, hovering by the exit.
He didn't want to talk. But he also couldn't walk away.
Finally, Aoki glanced up. "You can say it."
Haru blinked. "Say what?"
"Whatever's been sitting on your mind since last night."
Haru's throat tightened. "You noticed?"
Aoki gave the faintest smile. "You're not subtle."
Haru swallowed. "I'm… trying to understand. What you said—it's a lot. About… me."
"I know," Aoki said softly. "And I don't want you to feel trapped by it."
"I don't," Haru said quickly. "I just… I don't know what to feel. You've helped me so much. Believed in me when I didn't, you had always been an Idol of mine so.. I don't want to ruin that."
"You won't." Aoki's voice dropped to something gentler. "What I told you—it doesn't come with expectations. I'm not asking for an answer now, especially with me being your direct teacher. I only wanted you to know the truth and think about it."
Haru looked at him, really looked. The controlled posture. The calm voice that barely hid the storm underneath.
And then he said, barely above a whisper, "When you said dragons imprint… does that mean you can't help it?"
Aoki hesitated. "It means the instinct chooses before the mind does. But control still matters. I would never let it rule me." He glanced down, a faint shimmer catching the light again under his collar.
Haru's lips parted, but no sound came out.
Before he could say anything else, Mizuki clapped her hands. "Break's over!"
The moment shattered. Aoki stepped back, regaining his composure.
And then he was gone.