Sora couldn't remember the exact moment he decided to buy the ticket.
He couldn't say it had been an impulse, nor could he claim that some strong emotion had pushed him to do it. It had simply happened while he was watching a special broadcast from his favorite idol.
She was speaking as usual.
With that clear, slightly high-pitched voice that never seemed to grow tired.
Luna-chan smiled as she read comments, reacted with small exclamations, and moved with the ease of someone who had spent far too much time in front of a camera.
Until the final announcement arrived.
"Alright, it looks like we have a winner…," she said, glancing to the side of the screen. "The lottery number is…"
Sora lifted his gaze slightly.
Not because he expected anything, but because he had nothing else to do.
He had bought a single ticket, almost as a symbolic gesture. Not because he believed he had any real chance, but because he wanted to support her. The money would go to a good cause. That was all.
Among millions of fans, the odds were ridiculous.
He was a member of the fan club, yes, but just an average one. He rarely commented. Never stood out. He only watched the occasional stream, so there were plenty of people who deserved to win more than him.
At least, that's how he felt during the first few moments.
Until he heard Luna's voice.
"Ticket number seven-four-two-four-six."
The pencil slipped from his fingers and struck the desk with a sharp sound.
Sora blinked.
…Huh?
He stared at the screen.
Luna was still smiling, as if she hadn't just said anything out of the ordinary.
But he knew.
Sora slowly moved the cursor to the email where his ticket information was stored. He did it carefully, as if moving too fast might break something.
He compared the numbers once.
Then again.
No.
He did it a third time, even slower, following each digit with almost absurd attention.
No, wait.
The numbers matched the broadcast.
There wasn't a single digit out of place.
This has to be a mistake.
Sora looked up just as Luna repeated the number, this time with a slightly more cheerful tone.
"To our dear winner, we'll be contacting you very soon."
The broadcast continued for a few more minutes, but Sora wasn't listening anymore.
The sound faded into distant noise.
When the stream ended, the screen went black, faintly reflecting his own face.
This is wrong.
His phone vibrated on the desk.
He didn't pick it up right away.
It's probably something else.
That thought lasted barely a second, because when he finally looked at the screen, the sender was exactly who he expected.
Sora opened the message and read it.
Then he read it again, with the absurd hope that the words might change.
But the message only confirmed that he was the winner.
He locked his phone and placed it face down.
He ran a hand over his face and let out a slow sigh.
He shouldn't have bought that ticket.
Not because he didn't want the prize, but because he felt undeserving of it.
Ten minutes later, he turned the phone on again.
The agency's email was polite and excessively clear.
They thanked him for his support.
They congratulated him on winning the raffle.
But they also reminded him—through a neatly organized list—that the prize would be completely anonymous, that he was not allowed to take photos, record audio, or reveal any details under any circumstances.
Sora read everything without skipping a single line.
Makes sense.
Luna was a virtual idol. No one had ever seen her outside a screen. That was part of her appeal, but also part of her mystery. All of her work happened online—concerts, streams, special events. Always through a perfect avatar, always protected by distance.
That was why millions of fans were excited about the prize. And, as a secondary detail, the raffle was for… an anonymous date with Luna.
Is this really okay?
Meeting her in person was something most fans could only imagine.
Sora signed the agreement.
Not because he didn't care about the conditions, but because he felt he had no right to question them.
He had won something he never expected to win.
That was all.
When he closed the email, he stared at the ceiling of his room.
I've never been on a date.
The thought came without drama. It was a fact, not a confession.
Will I do this right? What if I mess it up?
That question haunted him over the following days.
He was far too much of a perfectionist, so he surprised himself by researching with an almost obsessive seriousness.
He reviewed old interviews, rewatched all of Luna's streams since her debut—this time paying attention to details he had never considered important. Comments that might hint at hidden likes, preferences mentioned without anyone else noticing.
He learned which sweets she said she liked.
He knew what kinds of places she preferred.
Don't improvise.
He repeated that more than once.
The day before the date, he could barely focus in class. His notebook was filled with words unrelated to the subject—schedules, stations, estimated times. Arrows connecting ideas that only Sora understood.
One hour early, he thought. Arrive one hour early.
He couldn't afford to be late, but he also couldn't arrive exactly on time.
The morning of the meeting arrived sooner than expected.
Sora dressed in simple clothes, avoiding anything that looked like too much effort. He stared at himself in the mirror longer than usual, adjusted his glasses for no reason, then looked away.
Don't look like a fan, he repeated in his mind. Be normal.
With that thought, he arrived at the meeting point more than an hour early. He confirmed it the moment he saw the mall clock, but didn't allow himself to sigh or show relief.
It was exactly as planned.
Too early to justify nerves, too late to back out. The place was discreet—wooden benches lined up, artificial plants softening the atmosphere.
He sat down.
He rested his elbows on his knees, intertwined his fingers, and stared at the clock as if every second were eternal.
Still too early.
He was wearing clean clothes. He hadn't spent hours choosing them, but enough time to discard anything that looked like an obvious attempt. His gray hair was neatly arranged—just enough not to look unkempt.
His glasses rested on his face, giving him a more serious expression than he actually felt.
He didn't look bad.
He also didn't look like someone trying to stand out.
He looked around.
There were families, couples, groups of friends. None of them seemed to be waiting for anything important.
That calmed him a little.
That's better.
Even so, every time someone entered his field of vision, his attention tensed immediately.
He lowered his gaze a second later, pretending disinterest.
Don't stare so much.
With that thought, Sora walked around to clear his head and ended up entering a small shop—one of those places that seem to exist only to be ignored.
He didn't plan to buy anything. He just wanted to keep his hands busy.
The necklace was displayed in a modest case. A thin chain, with a small silver moon charm that didn't shine too much. It didn't look expensive. It also didn't look like something someone would notice right away.
He stared at it longer than necessary.
This is really stupid, he thought. I don't have to give her anything.
The agency hadn't mentioned gifts.
On the contrary, they had been very clear about what was not allowed.
Everything was bounded by an invisible line that couldn't be crossed.
And yet, Sora thought that… if he was going to meet someone who always existed on the other side of a screen, maybe something tangible for her to remember wouldn't be so bad.
Something she could take anywhere.
He didn't know why he thought that.
By the time he realized it, the necklace was already wrapped in a small bag. The shop clerk handed it to him with a smile, as if she had witnessed something important, but Sora simply looked away.
He left the store with a strange feeling.
He didn't feel relieved, nor excited. It was more like he had made a decision without fully understanding it.
He returned to the meeting point.
Five minutes left.
That was what he kept telling himself as time continued to move forward.
Meanwhile, a few streets away, a silver minivan moved slowly through traffic.
Inside, the atmosphere was completely different.
Mizuho had stopped bouncing her leg only because she realized she couldn't keep doing it without drawing attention. She forced herself to stay still, crossing her arms more tightly than necessary.
This is uncomfortable.
It wasn't stage fright. That kind of tension was familiar to her—almost comforting. In front of a camera, everything made sense. There were marks, timing, calculated smiles. But here, there was none of that.
No music. No lights. No audience.
Just Luna.
And the persistent idea that, in a few minutes, someone would be looking at her without any filter in between.
Beside her, Tsukiho carefully adjusted her summer hat, tilting it slightly until she found the right angle. She observed her reflection in the dark window, making sure it covered enough without looking exaggerated.
She nodded once, satisfied.
Then she noticed the stiffness in her twin sister's body.
"Relax a little," she murmured, without turning her head.
Mizuho exhaled through her nose.
"I'm trying," she replied. "But you can't expect me to be calm."
Tsukiho didn't ask why. She already knew the answer.
It's the first time, she thought. And it's a date with a fan.
"This time there's no camera," Mizuho added, as if she needed to say it out loud.
Tsukiho leaned back against the seat.
Exactly because of that.
From the front seat, Sayoko watched them through the rearview mirror. She didn't intervene immediately. Her gaze was firm, used to measuring silences. When she spoke, her voice was low—without harshness, but leaving no room for objections.
"Tsukiho, Mizuho. Remember who you are when you step out."
Mizuho tilted her head, a quick smile appearing almost by reflex.
"It doesn't matter who the winner is," Sayoko continued. "Or what he says. Or what he thinks."
"We have to be Luna," Mizuho replied without hesitation.
Tsukiho nodded.
Without realizing it, she brought a hand to the blue ribbon that used to tie her hair, checking that it was still there.
"Only in front of the cameras."
The minivan slowed down.
Silence settled in again, heavier than before. Sayoko closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath.
"Mizuho," she finally said. "You start."
Mizuho inhaled deeply.
She nodded once.
As always.
The door opened, and outside noise rushed in.
Mizuho stepped out slowly.
The air felt different from inside the vehicle—lighter, less controlled. She adjusted her hat by reflex and lifted her gaze.
And then she saw him.
She didn't need more than a second.
…Him?
The boy waiting was a familiar face.
Not an anonymous fan without an identity, but someone she had seen before—outside of any broadcast.
Sora, she remembered his name.
The distracted boy from class. The one who always seemed to arrive late. The one who sat a seat behind her every week.
Mizuho froze for a fraction of a second.
This can't be happening.
Sora looked up at that moment.
He saw Luna approaching.
His heart jumped awkwardly, completely out of rhythm. He stood up too fast and nearly hit the bench with his knee.
But that stopped mattering when he recognized her.
Luna was dressed in casual summer clothes.
A light-colored dress, simple sandals. The hat covered part of her face, but not enough to hide the soft pink hair falling over her shoulders. Her eyes, the same color, moved cautiously as she observed her surroundings, as if measuring them.
It felt like she was 2D and 3D at the same time.
"H-hello," Sora said, making a small bow he hadn't planned.
Why did I do that? he thought.
Mizuho lifted her gaze and smiled.
It wasn't a stage smile—more like a practiced one.
"Sora-kun?" she asked.
The voice was the same one he knew.
And yet, it wasn't exactly the same.
"Yes," he replied. "That's me."
Sora nodded, painfully aware of his hands, his posture, every breath. He wanted to say something clever, but instead, he made another awkward bow.
"Th-thank you for coming."
Idiot, he immediately thought. You're the one who won the date.
But Luna didn't seem to notice.
Or maybe she noticed and chose to ignore it.
There was a second of silence.
Luna observed him carefully, as if trying to fit a piece she hadn't expected to find.
This… wasn't planned, she thought.
"You arrived early," she said.
"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "I wanted to do my best."
Great, idiot, he repeated in his mind. Amazing first impression.
Luna smiled slightly and tilted her head.
"Shall we begin?"
Sora nodded.
As they walked, neither of them spoke. The shopping mall continued its usual rhythm around them, oblivious to the faint tension forming between them. Sora was the first to break the silence, talking about small, irrelevant things—shops, routes, decisions that didn't really matter.
Luna listened. She replied with a smile.
Everything was fine.
And yet, something didn't fit.
Why is he telling me that? she thought.
Sora mentioned a nearby café. He said he had heard in an interview that it was the kind of place she liked. Mizuho nodded by reflex, but frowned internally.
That's Tsukiho.
The feeling was strange. Like being handed a role that didn't belong to her.
Even here…?
Luna and Sora kept walking, and the more he talked, the more that subtle dissonance piled up. It wasn't irritation—it was misalignment. Like Luna's character didn't quite fit.
Sora glanced at her.
She doesn't look comfortable.
He didn't know why he thought that.
Even though Luna smiled, replied kindly, and everything seemed normal.
She doesn't look happy; the thought crossed his mind.
They stopped near a bench, where the noise faded a little.
Mizuho sat down carefully, unconsciously stretching her legs.
Is the date going to stay like this? she wondered.
Sora watched her for a second too long.
"You don't have to do that," he suddenly said.
Mizuho blinked.
"Do what?"
"You don't have to act," he continued, awkward but direct. "Here… it's just us."
Silence fell between them.
…He noticed?