Night fell over Tokyo as Ai unlocked her apartment door. The day stretched behind them like a dream—planetariums and ice cream, monkey bars and constellations.
Toshiro followed behind, Ruby still perched on his shoulders, her small hands covering his eyes.
"You have to guess where you are," Ruby instructed.
"Hmm, let me think." Toshiro pretended to ponder while carefully stepping over the threshold. "A space station? The moon? A princess castle?"
Ruby giggled, lifting her hands. "It's home, silly!"
Ai's heart squeezed at the word. Home. Such a simple concept—one she'd never fully understood until she had the twins. The apartment wasn't large or fancy, but it held everything that mattered.
"Shoes off," Aqua reminded Toshiro solemnly, already removing his own.
"Of course." Toshiro set Ruby down and slipped out of his shoes, placing them neatly beside the others in the genkan.
Ai watched him take in the apartment—his eyes moving across the living room with its worn sofa and low table, the small kitchen visible beyond, the narrow hallway leading to bedrooms. She saw her home through his eyes: the children's drawings magnetized to the refrigerator, toys tucked into baskets, a B-Komachi poster framed on one wall.
Ruby tugged at Toshiro's hand. "Come see our rooms! Aqua has a star map, and I have a dollhouse!"
"Ruby, let him breathe first," Ai chided gently.
"I'm breathing just fine," Toshiro assured her with a smile. "Lead the way, Captain."
Ruby pulled him down the hallway. "Aqua! Come too! We're showing Toshiro our rooms!"
"Alright, I'm on my way."
Left alone in the sudden quiet, Ai exhaled slowly. Her apartment felt different with Toshiro in it—smaller yet somehow more complete. She moved to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to assess dinner options.
Rice. Eggs. Vegetables. The ingredients for omurice—one of the few dishes she could prepare reliably. Ai wasn't a chef, but she knew her way around the kitchen.
As she gathered ingredients, her mind drifted back through the time since meeting Toshiro. That first "professional development dinner" in his apartment—the burnt hamburger steak, napkin wars, conversations that flowed like they'd known each other for years instead of days. His apartment had felt like neutral ground, a space between their public and private lives.
Then the kiss at the arcade. Unplanned. Electric. His hands cradling her face like she was something precious, not a commodity to be consumed by fans. The way he'd looked at her afterward, dazed and wondering, as if he couldn't quite believe what had happened either.
Small moments accumulated like stars forming a constellation: text messages exchanged late at night when the twins were asleep, his voice calling her "Starlight" in that low, private tone that made her stomach flip.
And now today—watching him with her children. The easy way he'd lifted Ruby, answered Aqua's questions, adapted to their needs without complaint. No man had ever entered this apartment besides Ichigo. This space was her sanctuary, the one place she didn't need to perform.
Yet here was Toshiro, crossing thresholds she'd never intended to open.
Warmth spread through her chest, radiating outward. Not the practiced happiness she displayed for fans, but something raw and real that frightened her with its intensity. Heat pooled lower too, a physical wanting she hadn't felt since—
Ai shook her head sharply, focusing on the vegetables she was chopping. Those thoughts led nowhere productive. Not with the twins awake and Toshiro just down the hall.
Still, her mind wandered traitorously. What would happen if, after the twins were asleep, she took Toshiro's hand and led him to her bedroom? If she closed the door, turned the lock, and asked him to take responsibility for the way he made her feel? His hands had been so sure when they'd held her face in the arcade. How would they feel elsewhere?
The knife slipped, nearly catching her finger.
"Get it together," she muttered to herself, setting the knife down.
A more sobering thought replaced the fantasy. What would Toshiro say if he knew the truth? That Ruby and Aqua weren't Ichigo's children she was babysitting, but her own? That she'd been sixteen when she'd given birth, terrified and alone except for Ichigo and Miyako? That she maintained an elaborate fiction about her personal life for the sake of her career?
Would he look at her differently? With judgment? Pity? Worst of all—would he leave?
Would he be like momma?
"Ai?"
She blinked. Toshiro stood in the kitchen doorway.
"Sorry, I was..." She gestured vaguely at the vegetables.
"Ruby wanted me to ask if we could have dessert after dinner. I told her I'd check with you but the answer was probably no. We did just have ice cream after all." He stepped closer, his brow furrowing. "Are you okay?"
"Fine." The word came automatically, the same response she gave staff and groupmates and interviewers. Never show weakness. Never admit to struggling.
He moved closer, until he stood just behind her. "Starlight."
Just that. Her nickname in his voice—gentle, questioning, seeing through her practiced smile. Something cracked inside her chest. She turned away, gripping the edge of the counter.
"I'm fine," she repeated, more firmly this time. "Just tired. It's been a long day."
"A good one, though?" The question held a vulnerability that caught her off guard.
"Yes," she admitted, softening. "A very good one."
She sensed rather than saw him move closer. Then his arms slid around her waist from behind, his chest warm against her back. Ai froze, her breath catching.
"Is this okay?" he murmured, his breath stirring her hair.
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
They stood like that for a moment, his arms loose enough that she could step away if she wanted. She didn't want to. Instead, she leaned back slightly, allowing herself to accept the comfort he offered.
"Are you okay, Starlight?" His voice vibrated against her shoulder, low and concerned.
"Just thinking too much." She closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the warmth of him. "Old habits."
His arms tightened fractionally. "Anything I can help with?"
Tell him. Tell him now.
The words pressed against her throat, demanding release. About the twins. About her fears. About how much she wanted him to stay.
"I'm not much of a cook," she said instead. "Fair warning."
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest into her back. "Then we're perfectly matched. Remember my hamburger steak disaster?"
"How could I forget? There was sauce on the ceiling."
"Exactly. So whatever you make will be an improvement." His chin rested lightly on top of her head. "Want help?"
"Do you know how to make omurice?"
"Ha! Not a clue. But I can follow instructions."
She turned in his arms, facing him. This close, she could see the different shades of blue in his eyes—sky at the edges, deepening to ocean near the pupils. A strand of his pale hair had fallen across his forehead. Without thinking, she reached up to brush it back.
His breath hitched at her touch. His gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes, a question in them.
"Toshiro..." she began, not sure what would follow.
"Ai! Toshiro! Look what I can do!"
Ruby's voice shattered the moment. They stepped apart as she barreled into the kitchen, clutching a toy wand topped with a star.
"Watch!" She waved the wand in elaborate patterns. "I'm making magic!"
"Impressive spellwork," Toshiro said seriously, crouching to her level. "What kind of magic is it?"
"Happy magic!" Ruby executed another flourish. "It makes sad people happy again."
"That's the best kind," Toshiro agreed. "Is dinner almost ready? Captain Ruby reports that the crew is getting hungry."
"Soon," Ai promised, gathering herself. "Toshiro's going to help me finish cooking."
"Can we have dessert after?" Ruby asked, executing a hopeful twirl with her wand.
"We'll see." Ai smoothed her daughter's hair. "Where's Aqua?"
"Reading his space book. He said the pictures aren't 'stronomically correct." She rolled her eyes in perfect mimicry of her brother's serious expression.
"Why don't you go tell him dinner's in twenty minutes?" Ai suggested.
Ruby nodded and dashed off, wand trailing sparkles in the kitchen light.
Alone again, Ai and Toshiro exchanged glances that held the echo of their interrupted moment.
"So," he said, rolling up his sleeves. "Omurice. What do I do first?"
"Chop these," she directed, handing him the remaining vegetables. "Not too small."
He took the knife, his movements careful but unpracticed. "I should warn you that my knife skills are questionable at best."
"I've seen worse." She began cooking rice, watching him from the corner of her eye. His brow furrowed in concentration, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth as he focused on the task.
Something about the domesticity of it—Toshiro chopping vegetables in her kitchen while the twins played down the hall—felt dangerously right. Like a glimpse into a life she'd never allowed herself to imagine.
"This feels nice," he said, echoing her thoughts. "Being here. With you. With them."
"They like you," she said, focusing on the rice. "Especially Ruby."
"And Aqua?"
"Aqua doesn't warm up to people easily. The fact that he showed you his star map speaks volumes." She hesitated. "He's... particular about who he lets into his space."
"I noticed." Toshiro finished chopping and looked up. "He reminds me of myself at that age. Watching everything. Taking it all in."
"You were an observer too?"
"Still am, in many ways." He transferred the vegetables to the bowl she indicated. "It's a survival skill, isn't it? Learning to read people before they read you."
The insight struck her silent. That was exactly what she'd done as a child—what she still did. Assess, adapt, become what was needed. Only with the twins did she allow herself to simply be.
And increasingly, with Toshiro.
"What else can I do?" he asked, washing his hands.
"Set the table? Plates are in that cabinet."
He moved around her small kitchen, finding dishes and chopsticks, arranging them on the low table in the living area. Ai watched him navigate her space, noting how he checked which cups were child-sized, how he placed the twins' settings closer to where adults would sit to help them reach.
Small observations. Thoughtful adjustments. Not for show or praise, but simply because it was the right thing to do.
"Toshiro," she said abruptly. "There's something I need to tell you."
He straightened, plates in hand. "What is it?"
The words jammed in her throat. Three simple words that could change everything: They're my children.
Before she could speak, Ruby and Aqua appeared in the doorway.
"Something smells good," Aqua said, his book tucked under one arm.
"Is dinner ready?" Ruby bounced on her toes. "I'm starving!"
"Almost," Ai promised, the moment slipping away. "Go wash your hands."
As the twins scampered off to the bathroom, Toshiro approached her again.
"You were saying?" he prompted gently.
Ai stirred the rice, buying time. "It can wait. After dinner, maybe."
He studied her face, then nodded. "Alright then. Whenever you're ready."