‘What was I like before coming to Tokyo?’
Yuan Qing lay on the bed, staring at the thin crack in the ceiling. It was already dark outside, and the light from the streetlamps leaked through the gaps in the curtains, casting mottled shadows on the wall.
Raven was perched on his chest, so exhausted that she had already fallen asleep, letting out soft, rhythmic purrs.
Before coming to Tokyo.
How long ago was that? Two years? Three? He didn’t really want to count anymore.
Regardless, they weren’t days worth remembering.
He rolled over, and Raven slid from his chest onto the pillow. She let out a dissatisfied grumble but continued to sleep.
Yuan Qing watched the night sky outside, his thoughts uncontrollably drifting back to that place he rarely thought about.
That small city. That home.
Honestly, that place wasn’t actually bad. It was a small city with a slow pace and relatively low cost of living. If he wanted to be a salted fish instead of a Magical Girl, it would have been much more suitable than Tokyo.
“This kid is just like this. He doesn’t like to greet people; he’s not likeable at all.”
“You need to make friends with other classmates. Don’t just bury your head in books all day.”
“I…”
‘Why does everyone want to control me? I haven’t done anything. I don’t get angry, I don’t cry, and I don’t laugh. My grades are fine. I clearly haven’t done anything wrong, yet someone is always trying to manage me.’
Why did he come to Tokyo?
Tokyo was fine. There were many people, it was lively, and no one would leave a light on for him. No one cared what he did, which was truly nice.
If he hadn’t met that noisy Raven Familiar, he would probably still be working the night shift at some convenience store, earning an hourly wage and eating microwave-heated instant rice balls.
But he had met her.
And then everything changed.
These hands of his had dealt with a total of twelve monsters this morning.
Twelve. Not a bad score.
The roar of distant vehicles echoed from outside. Tokyo nights were never quiet.
—
The next day, afternoon.
Mizuho stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the practice room, repeating the same movement over and over.
Raise hand, turn, pose.
Raise hand, turn, pose.
She had been practicing for nearly an hour. Fine beads of sweat broke out on her forehead, but her movements remained precise.
“Phew…” She stopped and looked at herself in the mirror. “It’s still missing something.”
Her double sat perched on a shelf in the corner, tilting its head as it watched her. “I think it’s already very good.”
“It’s not enough,” Mizuho said, shaking her head. “Since the last tea party, I’ve watched the stream replays many times. His movements and the ones I make are always different.”
“Of course they’re different,” the double said as if it were obvious. “He isn’t actually performing.”
“I know,” Mizuho took a deep breath. “But I have to get as close as possible.”
Just as she was preparing to continue, a rustling sound came from behind her. Mizuho turned around to see Yuan Qing standing at the door. He was wearing his faded white shirt, his hair was a bit messy, and his expression was as indifferent as ever.
Raven was perched on his shoulder, waving a wing at Mizuho. “Hi! We’ve come to visit you at work!”
Mizuho blinked once, then twice.
“How did you get in here?”
“Teleportation,” Raven said triumphantly. “Perfect stealth! No surveillance or passersby could ever spot us!”
Mizuho was silent for a second before looking at Yuan Qing. “Did you want to come here of your own accord?”
Yuan Qing thought for a moment. “…She insisted on coming.”
“You were clearly the one who wanted to come!” Raven immediately exposed him.
“Aren’t you going to fight monsters?” Mizuho asked.
Raven answered immediately. “Already finished.”
“Oh.”
Yuan Qing didn’t speak.
Mizuho looked at him, the corners of her mouth curling up.
“Then stay and watch,” she said, turning back to the mirror. “You can help me check my form.”
Yuan Qing walked over to a bench by the wall and sat down, watching Mizuho in the mirror.
Mizuho took a deep breath and began to dance.
Raise hand, turn, pose.
Every movement was standard, and every detail was in place.
When the sequence ended, Mizuho stopped and turned to look at him. “How was it?”
Yuan Qing raised a finger and rotated it. “Do it one more time.”
Mizuho nodded and started over.
Raise hand, turn, pose.
The second time ended.
Yuan Qing stood up and walked to her side.
“This movement,” he said, raising his hand to mimic Mizuho’s previous posture, “is too soft.”
“Too soft?”
Mizuho carefully observed Yuan Qing’s imitation.
“Yes,” Yuan Qing said, looking at his own reflection. “Miss Raven’s movements should be more crisp.”
Raise hand, turn, pose.
“See,” Yuan Qing returned to a standing position and turned to her. “When you raised your hand just now, there was an extra flick of the wrist.”
Mizuho’s eyes widened slightly. “Was there?”
“Yes,” Yuan Qing nodded. “It was very subtle, but it was visible.”
He walked behind Mizuho and gently supported her wrist.
“It should be like this.” His hand guided hers, performing a clean and sharp lifting motion. “Don’t overthink it. Just lift it directly.”
Mizuho felt the warmth of his hand. “Okay.”
She tried again.
Raise hand, turn, pose.
“How about now?” she asked.
Yuan Qing considered it. “When you turn, you can relax your shoulders a bit more.”
“My shoulders?”
“Yes,” Yuan Qing moved to her side. “When you turn, your shoulders unconsciously hunch up. It makes you look a bit tense.”
He reached out and lightly pressed down on Mizuho’s shoulders.
Mizuho did it again, following his instructions.
Raise hand, turn, pose.
This time, even she felt that it was different.
“That’s it,” Yuan Qing nodded. “Just like that.”
Mizuho looked at herself in the mirror, then at Yuan Qing standing beside her. She suddenly felt a bit dazed.
‘When did this guy… learn how to do this?’
Raven sat on the shelf, watching with wide eyes.
“That’s not right, is it?” she whispered to the double. “When did this guy learn how to do this?”
The double leaned in. “Maybe he’s just watched too much. After all, his battles are live-streamed every time.”
“I suppose so…”
Yuan Qing continued to point out the nuances in Mizuho’s movements.
Mizuho practiced time and again, and Yuan Qing watched time and again, occasionally stepping in to adjust her posture or demonstrate the correct motion.
Finally, Mizuho stopped, gasping for breath.
“Hah… hah…” She rested her hands on her knees, sweat sliding down her hair and dripping onto the floor. “How long have we been practicing?”
Yuan Qing checked his phone. “One hour.”
“Only one hour?”
“You didn’t stop once.”
Mizuho straightened up and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, her face was flushed, and her makeup had long since smeared.
But she smiled. “This was more useful than three hours of practicing by myself.”
Yuan Qing said nothing and walked back to sit on the bench. Mizuho followed and sat down beside him.
The two sat side by side, looking at the large mirror opposite them. The mirror reflected their figures.
Two identical faces—one wearing practice clothes, the other wearing an old shirt.
“Do you want some water?” Mizuho grabbed a bottle of water from nearby and handed it to Yuan Qing.
Yuan Qing took it and took a sip.
Mizuho also opened a bottle, taking small sips.
Neither spoke for a moment.
But the silence wasn’t awkward; instead, there was a strange sense of comfort.
Raven and the double had slipped out at some point, leaving only the two of them in the practice room.
“…”
“…”
“…Recently,” Yuan Qing spoke first, “how have your results been?”
“What results?” Mizuho looked at the reflection of Yuan Qing’s eyes in the glass.
“As an idol.”
“Oh, that…” Mizuho paused. “It’s been very busy lately. In other words, because of your outstanding performance, it’s been very fulfilling.”
Yuan Qing suddenly asked an out-of-the-blue question. “Does this count as being outstanding?”
“Doesn’t it count?” Mizuho was somewhat surprised.
‘No way. Could it be that Mr. Luo’s ambition is actually—’
“I don’t know, and it’s boring,” Yuan Qing said, his eyes lowering slightly. “It’s all just killing time before death.”
Ah, as expected, it was still the same old unambitious Mr. Luo.
Mizuho turned her head and smiled at Yuan Qing. “You’re so negative.”
“It’s just the truth.”
“Then how do you explain the twelve monsters this morning?” Mizuho looked at him. “You don’t need to work that hard just to kill time, do you?”
Yuan Qing was silent for a while.
“Because I want to win.”
“Win against Hifumi?”
“Yes.”