"I’m coming in~" Honne sang at the doorway, as if announcing herself to an invisible rival, then darted inside.

She sniffed the air.

Plain. Clean. No unfamiliar perfume. Relief washed over her.

Still cautious, she scanned the shoe rack while kicking off her sneakers, then circled the apartment once. Only after confirming he truly lived alone did she finally exhale.

So the vixen hasn’t crossed the threshold yet.

Alan watched her amateur detective routine with amusement.

"Inspection complete? See, no intruders."

"Hmph. Liar."

She lifted the paper bag and met his eyes.

"Bathroom. I want a shower. How does yours work?"

"I don’t keep many girly products around," Alan warned.

"Skipping lotion once won’t kill me. I’m not that fragile."

"Fair enough."

He showed her the bathroom. Though the apartment was small, the tub was oversized, chosen specifically for soaking after kendo practice. He explained the taps, the bath salts, the fan.

"Want a bath? I can run the water."

"No, just a quick rinse." She turned him around and nudged him out. "Don’t come in. I’m locking the door."

Alan sighed.

"Do I look like some kind of pervert?"

"Dummy." She stuck out her tongue, pink and fleeting, then shut the door.

Water hissed.

Alan checked the time. If Honne took her usual forever-plus-five-minutes, the cake delivery should be perfect.

After all, he’d watched her grow up alongside Hojo.

She’d come all the way to Tokyo, of course he’d planned something.

The cake was ordered. Fireworks purchased at painful expense. Even a pyrotechnician booked for dusk. Rooftops and parks had been scouted, the display would be visible wherever they stood.

Three o’clock now. By the time she finished dressing, it’d be close to five. Cake, then fireworks, tight, but still a celebration.

Alan sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

Minutes stretched. "Just a quick rinse" turned into over half an hour. Then the hair dryer whirred.

Another thirty minutes passed before the bathroom door creaked open.

Pat, pat. Bare feet on tile.

Alan looked up.

The first thing he noticed were her small, damp toes.

His gaze traveled upward, past the hem of the kimono, revealing slender, snow-white legs. Under the warm lights, her skin looked like porcelain, so delicate the faint blue veins showed through.

The kimono was only draped around her. The obi hung loose, the waist still untied.

"Alan," she said softly, holding the wide sash, "can you help me tie this?"

One hand pressed lightly to her chest, lashes shimmering.

It’s my birthday wish.

Was it his imagination, or were her cheeks even redder than before, touched by something almost feverish?

A formal kimono wasn’t like a yukata. You couldn’t put it on alone.

She had clearly planned this.

Alan stepped behind her.

"I might be a little rusty."

"Mm..."

Her usual energy seemed muted, restrained by the kimono. When his fingers brushed hers, he felt how cold they were.

He paused.

"Why are your hands so cold?"

She quickly cupped them against her cheeks.

"They’re fine. Don’t fuss. Help me finish, we’re supposed to go out."

Meeting her bright gaze, Alan finally threaded the obi around her slender waist. It was clumsy—he’d checked his phone for reference—but the knot held.

Then he twisted her hair into a simple topknot. That part came easily, he’d done it countless times for Akari Hojo.

Honne turned to face him and tilted her head, smiling.

In that instant, all awkwardness vanished. The young woman before him felt entirely new.

Alan caught his breath.

She’s grown into a real lady.

Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

The doorbell rang.

"Hold on," Alan called, hurrying to answer it.

***

Honne watched quietly as Alan set the cake on the table, placed the candles, and turned off the living-room lights.

The sun hadn’t fully set yet, but the glow of the candles alone was enough to make the room feel unmistakably like a birthday.

Two small flames flickered, painting their faces in soft gold.

Alan smiled. "Alright. Make a wish."

Honne bit her lip, fighting the sudden sting behind her eyes.

"I never said I wanted cake," she murmured. "I already made a wish."

"Already?"

"At the little shrine halfway up Mount Takao."

"Then make another one," he said lightly. "Birthday wishes don’t have a limit."

She pressed her lips together. "...Fine."

Folding her hands, she closed her eyes. Seconds later, she leaned forward and blew out both candles in a single breath.

Click.

Alan turned the lights back on, then reached into his pocket and produced a small wooden box.

"Happy birthday, Honne."

She didn’t answer. Her gaze was locked on what lay inside.

A short blade carved from jade, threaded on a red cord.

"May every year bring you peace and good health," Alan added gently.

Even biting her lip wasn’t enough to stop the tears.

Honne nodded hard, inhaled, and forced her voice steady.

"Then... take a picture for me?"

She fastened the necklace around her throat. "I’ll grab my camera—"

"Your phone’s fine."

Once she’d settled into a pose, Alan raised his phone.

Click.

He took several shots, picked the best one, and handed it to her.

"How’s this?"

"Perfect."

But the moment the word left her lips, her smile faltered.

Her brows knit together, she pressed a hand to her forehead, and swayed.

Alan caught her by the shoulders just in time.

Her cheeks were flushed, unnaturally warm.

He pressed his fingers to her brow, then to his own. Not dangerously hot, but unmistakably a fever.

Seriously? I just wished her good health...

He guided her to the sofa. "Sit here. I’ll get the first-aid kit."

Honne nodded, heavy-lidded eyes following him until he left the room.

The instant he was gone, she exhaled sharply, pulled his phone from the table, and forced herself to ignore the dizziness.

First, she downloaded an app from a chat link and hid it.

Then she opened his contacts...