The Future Flinches

She has her meeting with PR next, but it doesn’t start for half an hour. Without thinking, her feet lead her to the balcony.

There’s a man standing there—back turned to her, staring up at the sky. Distant windchimes—but then he turns, and a big grin splits a beloved face.

“Hakaze,” says Harua, her mini-me, the bane of her whole existence. He’s thinner than she remembers—dark circles under his eyes like he’s not been sleeping. Still, seeing him is enough for Hakaze to breathe, deep, as if a rock that was crushing her chest has finally rolled away. “Fuma was texting me. Is it true? We’re back?”

Hakaze pulls him into a violent hug. “Where did you go,” she says, muffled against his stupid head. “I was worried. Ren wouldn’t tell me.”

He huffs a startled laugh. His arms come around her too: he hugs her tight. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, low and sincere. “I just needed a break after they told me that disbandment was on the table. I was in a bad place.”

“Tell me you didn’t break up to try and keep your stupid group together.”

“No, no. I tried, but they wouldn’t let me. Say,” he says, bright again, his eyes like twin sparks, “is it true you started fucking Ren to get us trending again?”

Hakaze thinks about throwing him off the balcony. He shivers, as if he can tell. “Scary, scary. I was about to thank you for your service! I don’t know exactly how you spun the scandal of the century into a PR stunt for me, but I owe you my whole life.”

“It wasn’t me,” she says, pinching his nose. “Your fans are kind, Harua. Treasure it.”

He hums, like he doesn’t quite believe her. His eyes are so bright, so happy. Being away from him for so long had been bad for her as well: she’d started to doubt why she was doing all this in the first place. It was selfishness, yes, because seeing Kirishima brought low had been satisfying; but Harua, laughing, clever Harua, holds such an undeniable part of her heart it’s amazing she forgot.

Someone clears their throat. It’s only natural that, in the blue skies of her joy, she turns to see Ren, whose scowl slips into a wide-eyed stare when she smiles at him.

“Hakaze,” he says, soft. Then: “Harua. You’re back. Congratulations on the good news.”

“Eyy, that makes it sound like I’m having a baby. Which I sort of am! My partner’s going to be thrilled.” Harua’s voice is light, but then he and Ren exchange a bro hug that looks even more intense than the one he shared with Hakaze. He flicks his eyes to her, and a mischievous grin spreads across his face as he says, robotically, “Thank you for visiting us every day, Ren. Despite your bitchy exterior, you really have a heart of gold. You’re so kind. The kindest.”

“What are you doing.”

“And you can bench press three hundred pounds!”

“What’s going on.”

“Remember when we just debuted and you proposed that we all have weekly meetings with the whole team? You have sooooo much emotional intelligence.”

“Hakaze, we should leave. Harua—”

“Never let it be said I didn’t do anything for you!” Harua sings, giving Ren a big thumbs up. “Hakaze, expect a call from me tonight so I can tell you more cool stuff about Ren! Who you totally should date!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ren says, and grabs Hakaze’s hoodie. “Hakaze, we have a meeting with PR right now. Goodbye, Harua.”

“See you at the studio after!” Harua calls after them, waving wildly. “I can tell you about how Ren had a duckling as a pet when he was a kid!”

Ren starts walking faster. Hakaze waves to Harua and runs to catch up with him, smiling up at the grumpy set of his face.

He slows down when he sees her, unconsciously turning, a little, so he’s facing her. “Harua’s overstepping,” he says, tightly. “You shouldn’t feel pressured—I never asked him to put in a good word for me, or anything. It’s just that I’ve been—distracted, lately, and he noticed.”

“Prince,” she says, and then finds she can’t think of anything else to say. She feels stupid with how happy she is to see him. “Ren.”

He comes to a stop outside one of the meeting rooms –Hakaze doesn’t even check if it’s the right one—and takes a deep breath with his hand on the door. “Hakaze,” he says back.

“You did what I asked.”

His mouth makes a complicated shape and his whole body twitches. “There wasn’t a world where I wouldn’t. In case I didn’t make it clear enough, I’m in love—”

Hakaze goes on her tiptoes and slaps both her palms over his mouth. “Wait.”

One breath, then another. He’s patient, his hands crossed behind his back. His eyes are dark and attentive as he watches her.

She’s been loved before; it sticks on to her like lipgloss, rubbed off at the end of the day when she goes home and sheds her idol skin. She’s never met someone who loved her when she retreated into herself, and it’s as if, by knowing her and loving her, Ren has shown her ways she could be loved as well.

She’s not sure she’s ready to hear it, yet.

“Proper confession,” Hakaze breathes into the scant space between them, and she can feel and hear and see Ren inhale. It shakes her badly. “Or did I mishear you back then?”

He shakes his head. When she takes her hands away, he rubs at his lips, unselfconscious and wondering. Hakaze screws her eyes shut, pained. His good looks should be illegal, he should be in jail.

“Hakaze,” he says, soft. “You have an eyelash right—here.”

Oldest trick in the book. Her whole body shudders anyway when she feels his hand hovering over her face, and at her nod, he wipes at her cheekbone. His eyes are molten lava.

“Do you think I should—” he says, voice so low it punches through her. “Do you think I should make that confession soon?”

She can’t help it. She nods.

Slow-spreading delight lights up his face. “Okay,” he says, grinning helplessly. “Okay.”

She nods again, and unsticks her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “I’ll be waiting, Prince.”

Then, because looking at him even further she’ll lose it, she shoulders the door open.

*

The PR conference room is smaller, warmer. The carpets are a fun geometric shape that reminds Hakaze vaguely of a movie theater, and both the assistants on either side of Fukunaga are wearing fun dresses in bright colors. Hakaze feels sick with envy. Nobody told her the PR team was cool.

Ms. Fukunaga has taken off her blazer to reveal that she, too, is wearing a black dress with embroidered green flowers. She sets it neatly over the back of her chair and smiles at them both, invites them to take a seat.

“All right,” she says. “Before we do anything formal, I want to be very clear about something.”

She looks at Hakaze directly.

“I’m not here to ask you what happened. I just need to know what you’re prepared to stand behind.”

One of the associates glances up from her laptop, then pointedly back down. Ren shifts beside her, but says nothing.

Hakaze chooses her words carefully. This is familiar ground, though she’s still thrown off by the cool auntie vibe that Fukunaga exudes. She finds that she desperately wants to be this woman’s friend.

“I can stand behind the fact that I’m a sound engineer contracted to Astreon,” she says. “I work closely with Neonite. I was photographed outside of work hours. There was no attempt to mislead.”

Ms. Fukunaga nods, encouraging.

“I can also stand behind the fact,” Hakaze continues, “that I’m not currently in a relationship with Ren.”

One of the associates pauses mid-keystroke. All three of their eyebrows go up expressively, and they all exchange a whole silent conversation with micro-gestures and expressions.

Hakaze sighs. She and Fuma sure didn’t have a silent language.

Ren is still quiet next to her. She watches his hands flex once, twice.

“And if that changes?” Fukunaga asks, and narrows her eyes when Hakaze opens her mouth to protest. “Shinomiya, these are the hypotheticals that make or break a scandal. I wish we had the leeway to be delicate about this, but we work for the most scandal-averse company in the industry. The more forthcoming you are with us now, the more we can help.”

Hakaze sighs. “If that changes, you’ll be the first to know.”

Ren exhales noisily.

“Good. No running off and calling your contacts in the gossip sites. We’re not blind, Shinomiya,” she adds. “We can tell when strings are being pulled. We just usually prefer to be the ones pulling the. We don’t always agree with the directives from above, either, so next time just check with us before you pull out all the stops.”

Hakaze meets her gaze, trying to hide how she’s quaking, slightly, in her boots. This auntie had her fucking number.

All she says is, “Understood.”

Fukunaga smiles fully this time. Warm. Almost fond.

“Glad we’re on the same page, then. This is what we’ll say if asked,” Fukunaga clicks her pen, as her assistants type away on their tablets furiously. “You are a long-time collaborator with both Ren and Harua. Any speculation beyond that is premature. Full stop.”

One associate speaks up. “Fan sentiment suggests that ambiguity is currently stabilizing, not destabilizing.”

“Exactly,” Fukunaga says. “Which tells me the audience doesn’t feel anyone’s hand in it. This bodes very well for us.”

Hakaze swallows. She hadn’t articulated it that way, but yes. That had been part of it.

“And if it progresses?” Ren asks quietly.

Fukunaga considers him. “Then we revisit. Later. When there’s less at stake.”

She doesn’t say after the album.

“As for consequences,” she continues gently, “there aren’t any. Not right now. You’ve both been careful. The company appreciates that.”

Hakaze blinks. That wasn’t what she expected.

“But,” Fukunaga adds, voice softening further, “understand this isn’t a free pass. It’s trust. And it’s highly conditional.”

She folds her hands.

“You’ve both demonstrated restraint. Professionalism. An understanding of scale. If that changes—if this becomes louder than the work—then yes. We will step in.”

Fukunaga closes her folder. “Until then, you continue exactly as you are. No sudden secrecy. No grand gestures. No need to perform innocence.”

She stands, signaling the end of the meeting.

“Your saving grace is that you didn’t force our hand,” she says to Hakaze as they gather their things. “You made it easy for us to choose the least damaging option, which I suppose works out in everyone’s favor in the long term.”

Then, almost casually: “We’re brainstorming a new PR strategy for Neonite and the new survival show in a few weeks. I’ll forward the invite.”

Hakaze nods.

Outside, she exchanges a haunted look with Ren.

“Terrifying,” he says.

“I thought I would piss myself,” Hakaze agrees. “How is she so much scarier than Kirishima?”

“She wasn’t even mad. That was her neutral.”

They both shudder. “Want to go smoke about it?”

Ren grins. It’s an expression that’s taken up residence under her ribs. “I thought you’d never ask, Senior.”

“Flirting,” she observes.

He gives her a dark-eyed, measured look. “You didn’t say we’d never date, in there. I’m learning to pick up your signals.”

She has every intention to say something condescending, but all she says is “Finally,” and it comes out so soft and relieved that it ends up not being the epic burn she thought it was.