Hoshino Ai reached out and measured the height difference by placing her hand flat atop her head, then sliding it horizontally until her fingertips graced Kitagawa Ryo's brow. With a playful flick of her fingers, she marked the gap between them.
"This much already."
"But you should grow a little taller."
"I'm not even sixteen yet. I've got plenty of time left to grow."
Ryo found her gesture childish, yet it reminded him of something he'd read—mothers measuring their children's heights in books. The thought left him flustered, and he averted his gaze, murmuring his reply.
"Alright, let's head home first."
The airport was crowded, and even with masks covering their faces, lingering too long risked recognition. Ai had no intention of teasing him further—her lips curled into a satisfied smile as she turned toward the exit.
Ryo nodded and moved to pull her suitcase for her, but Ai slyly shifted her right hand along the handle, nudging it toward him, silently inviting him to share the task.
It was the kind of pointless yet intimate ritual couples indulged in—like splitting a shopping bag between them. It saved no effort, and the posture was awkward, but Ai had always been fond of these little gestures.
Ryo didn't overthink it. He took the other side of the handle with his left hand, and the two strolled leisurely toward the exit, chatting about the amusing incidents during Ai's tour performances.
To avoid fans waiting at the airport, Ai hadn't returned to Tokyo with the rest of B-Komachi. Instead, she'd rescheduled her flight, coming back alone two days early.
Though the clamor of the crowd still buzzed around them, Ai's mind filtered out the noise. She tilted her head slightly, her starlit eyes fixed on Ryo.
It had been nearly half a year since she'd last seen him in person. They'd kept in touch through calls and video chats, but some changes could only be felt face-to-face.
Ai and Ryo had known each other for almost eight years now. She'd watched him grow from a child into the young man standing beside her.
Eight years.
She turned the number over in her mind.
By now, sixteen-year-old Ryo had spent more of his life with her than without her.
And that number would only keep growing—until it encompassed the rest of their lives.
Beside them, another family waited for an arriving passenger—a mother soothing her child in a stroller.
"Daddy's almost here," the woman murmured gently.
Soon, she spotted her husband and hurried forward to meet him. The couple exchanged whispers, their heads bent close as they pushed the stroller toward the exit together.
Watching them, Ai suddenly became hyper-aware of how she and Ryo were sharing the suitcase handle. Her pulse quickened, her cheeks warming as her imagination briefly replaced the rolling luggage with something else—or perhaps, she was simply anticipating the day it would become a stroller.
"Sorry for troubling Mr. Izaki again."
Today's driver was Ryo's current manager, a familiar face to Ai. She helped load her suitcase into the trunk, then stuck out her tongue sheepishly.
"Don't worry about it. Once Ryo turns eighteen and gets his license, you won't need to rely on this old man anymore," Mr. Izaki chuckled.
In Japan, a driver's license required applicants to be at least eighteen. Ai was old enough but had never been interested in learning—her busy schedule hadn't allowed it.
Just as Ryo moved to take the passenger seat, Ai, already holding the rear door open, beckoned him over.
"Ryo, sit with me in the back—"
"Sure."
He didn't mind. He wasn't fond of the front seat anyway—seatbelts were mandatory there.
Once he settled in, Ai slid in beside him, using the excuse of showing him photos from her trip to edge closer until their shoulders touched.
A twenty-year-old Ai doing this was an entirely different experience from a twelve-year-old Ai. The moment she leaned in, Ryo became acutely aware of her presence—her scent, her warmth, the weight of her against him.
The car's tinted windows ensured privacy, so Ai removed her mask without hesitation. Her eyes crinkled into crescents as she rested her head against Ryo's shoulder, scrolling through her phone to share the pictures.
"By the way, Ai, you're back in Tokyo for the Tokyo Dome concert, right?"
Once she'd finished recounting her stories, Ryo brought up the topic himself.
"Mhm. But President Saitou's already handled most of the arrangements. The final approvals should come through in a couple of days."
At the mention of the Tokyo Dome concert, Ai's expression brightened with genuine excitement.
"I can't wait for that day."
"It's the Tokyo Dome stage, after all. For an idol group, holding a concert there is like receiving society's stamp of approval."
"Yeah."
Ai stole a glance at Ryo's face. She hadn't told him yet—that this concert would be her farewell performance, her retirement from being an idol.
She wanted to surprise him.
After eight years as an idol, Ai had risen to stardom, but the role had also confined her. Even with her rebellious persona, the no-dating rule remained an unbreakable idol taboo.
Over the years, she'd learned that many famous idols secretly dated, carefully guarding their relationships.
In a way, this Tokyo Dome concert wasn't just about fulfilling President Saitou's wish—it was her own dream too.
To Ai, this was the final boss battle.
And the prize for winning sat right beside her.
She reached for Ryo's hand, her fingers intertwining with his effortlessly, no longer fumbling over how to position them.
She breathed in his presence, craving the contact.
In the long years of waiting, twenty-year-old Hoshino Ai had learned something—she wasn't sure if it was right or wrong, but she believed it:
Desire isn't always proof of love.
But without desire, that feeling isn't love at all—it's something else entirely.
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