Drifting Through the City Lights

Ayaka reached Reiko’s car and waited for the doors to unlock. Reiko fished her keys out of her purse, and the locks clicked open with a familiar thud. Ayaka slipped into the passenger seat, exhaling as she was finally free from work.

Kaito reached the team van at the same moment. The driver slid the door open from the front, and Daichi barely looked up from the tablet he was scrolling through, still tracking reactions to the interview. Kaito stepped inside and settled into his usual seat while Daichi took the one opposite him.

Ayaka pulled her door closed with a firm slam, sealing herself inside the strong perfume scent that always clung to Reiko’s car. It was overwhelming to most people, but to her it was comforting; a smell that meant safety, a place of refuge.

Kaito waited patiently as the van door eased shut behind him. A wave of curry drifted through the cabin, revealing what the driver had eaten during the taping. Kaito was too polite to say anything, and Daichi was too absorbed in his tablet to notice.

Reiko’s car came alive with a soft hum, gentle music rising from the speakers. Reiko smiled as she shifted into drive, and they rolled away from the station. She, too, was thrilled the workday was done.

The team van started with a low roar before settling into its own steady vibration. The driver pulled away from the curb without needing instructions; he had done this routine a hundred times.

Ayaka watched the city buildings light up one by one from her front‑seat view. Evening had settled over them, and she wondered whether she should grab a late dinner.

“Reiko‑sensei, are we going to get something to eat?” she asked, adding a playful whine as she held her stomach.

“Oh, you haven’t eaten yet?” Reiko teased. “I nearly forgot. Where do little children like to eat again?”

Ayaka sat up and gave her a pointed look. She did not mind the jab, not from Reiko.

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Reiko laughed, already planning to give in. They both knew it.

Ayaka slipped back into her comfortable slouch and turned to the window, letting the fresh lights of the city wash over her.

The same lights shimmered through the tinted window of Kaito’s van. He leaned his head against the glass, resting there like a tired child.

“If you’re tired, you can go ahead and rest,” Daichi offered without looking up.

Kaito did not respond. He was wondering if he would ever get through an interview without feeling wrung out. His thoughts drifted to Ayaka’s bold comments toward Ryohei once more. He tried to imagine himself saying something like that on air. Even in his imagination, the words refused to come.

“Maybe I could hire a look‑alike for these interviews,” he sighed.

Daichi, still buried in the tablet, replied as if the idea were serious. “No, you cannot. If we get caught, that would be the end for both of us.”

Kaito lifted his head just long enough to give his coach a weary shake before settling back into his lean, letting the city lights blur past him once more.

Ayaka’s phone rang, and without missing a beat, Reiko reached over and turned the radio off. Ayaka checked the screen, sat up straighter, and broke into a bright smile. She held the phone out for Reiko to see, doing a tiny happy dance before answering.

“Okaasan! I miss you,” she said in her best baby voice.

Reiko shook her head in disbelief. Someone Ayaka’s age should not have been able to slip into that tone so naturally, and yet she always did.

Fujimoto Keiko, long accustomed to her daughter’s antics, did not miss a beat.

“You were amazing today. I do not know why you don’t do more TV,” she said, half supportive and half wishing she could see her daughter on screen more often.

“I’m amazing every day, Okaasan,” Ayaka replied with mock firmness.

Keiko laughed as she settled into a chair in their rural home.

“I know you are, honey. That young man you were with was quite handsome,” she added, shifting topics with suspicious ease.

“Spoken like a real parent,” Ayaka said, short and sweet.

“What? I thought he was handsome. What is his name, Kaito‑san?” Keiko pressed, refusing to let it go.

A sudden voice burst into the call from out of nowhere. “Onee‑chan is prettier!”

Ayaka gasped dramatically. “One can only rely on her imouto in times like these,” she said, pretending to wipe tears.

Keiko sighed, outnumbered and defeated. “Fine, fine. I know my daughters are the best.”

Kaito reached for his phone and dialed his grandmother. He always called her first after every big moment. She was his anchor in the chaotic world he found himself in.

“Kaito, is that you?” Hayasaka Tomie’s soft voice drifted through the speaker.

“Yes, Obaachan. It’s me,” he answered, matching her gentle tone.

“Oh, I just watched you on the telly,” she said, delight bubbling through her words. “I was so happy to be able to see you again.”

Kaito smiled. She never commented on how well he performed, not even when he won gold at the Olympics. It was always as simple as that: she was happy to see him.

“I wish I could see you too,” he said, a hint of loneliness slipping in. “Is everything well there? Has Otousan been stopping by lately?”

“Oh yes, he was here the other day,” she replied lightly. “Talking about how proud he was that you won another medal.”

Kaito lowered his head. It had been weeks since his last competition. His father clearly was not visiting her as often as he claimed.

Ayaka winced as her mother brought up the comments from the show. Keiko had a knack for finding the few good ones every time.

“This one says you stole the show; they forgot Kaito was even there.” Keiko always found something to be proud of, even though she knew most of the comments were negative. “You should engage your fans more often. Maybe we would see more great comments.”

“I’ll try, Okaasan,” Ayaka said, eager to steer the conversation away. “Reiko‑sensei and I are going to get something to eat. We could not get dinner because of the show.”

“Oh, okay. Enjoy your meal.” The call disconnected, and Keiko added softly to herself, “I love you, Ayaka.”

Ayaka felt bad about hanging up so abruptly, but internet comments had haunted her for years. Knowing it was a mistake, she checked her phone for the comments anyway. Even one good one was enough.

Kaito always enjoyed these moments with his grandmother, even when they were only over the phone. He tried to recall the last time he had managed to visit home.

“Obaachan, should I just come home for a visit?” he asked. He knew it was not possible; it was just a playful wish.

“Oh no, you have a big meet coming up soon, don’t you?”

“Ah, you are right. I almost forgot,” Kaito said with a small smile. “A man can dream, can’t he?”

“Well, after the meet, come home, and I’ll make you a nice dinner.” Tomie had always loved watching her children and grandchildren eat her food.

“It’s a date, Obaachan,” Kaito said, settling into the thought.

“I have to go, Kaito.” Her voice shifted slightly, as if she were signaling someone to enter the room. “It was good talking to you.”

“It was good talking to you,” he echoed, a little sad that the call was ending so soon. “Don’t work too hard.”

“I won’t. Goodbye, Kaito,” his grandmother said before hanging up.

Daichi finally looked up and handed him the tablet he had been studying the whole time. “The comments aren’t bad.”

Kaito took the tablet and began scrolling through the reactions.

“Kaito‑kun looked so calm today. He is always so composed.”

“She talks too much. Let the others speak.”

“Kaito‑san’s smile at the end… I replayed it three times.”

“Trying too hard to be funny.”

“He looked overwhelmed… I hope he is okay.”

“She only got invited because she’s pretty.”

“He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, it feels genuine.”

“She should focus on winning instead of TV.”

Ayaka put her phone down. She knew it was a mistake.

Kaito handed the tablet back. They would never understand him.

The city lights drifted past their windows. Ayaka dreamed of changing the narrative. Kaito dreamed of hiding from it.