That week went by quickly, thankfully.
Yuzu had graded an entire stack of papers, survived a never-ending faculty meeting, and tried to explain to a whole second-year class the difference between the Renaissance and the Baroque. By the end of each day, she always felt a bit drained—but not unhappy.
There was something comforting about routine: she knew what to expect.
She'd heard from her friends a few nights earlier. A three-minute voice message, a few photos of outfit options to choose from.
In the end, they had decided: Saturday night, outside Tokyo, at a new club. Music, people, cocktails.
Every now and then, it was necessary.
Yuzu didn't go out often. She didn't like being the center of attention—but that night, she wanted to feel...how to put it...different.
More alive.
More like a woman, maybe.
So after grading the last test, she got up from the couch, stretched her back, and went to get ready.
She opened her wardrobe. Her eyes landed on her little black dress.
Short, simple, but form-fitting. It slid over her curves with quiet ease. Sleeveless, strapless, low-cut just enough.
She put it on with a pair of shiny black knee-high boots, with an elegant heel that gave her just the right boost—considering she was only 1.48 meters tall.
Her hair, straight and jet-black, fell down her back like a stream of ink, perfectly groomed down to the last strand.
Then, she did her makeup carefully: dark red lipstick, a subtle winged eyeliner, glowing skin. When she looked in the mirror before leaving, she paused for a moment. She really did feel different.
She didn't look anything like the Yuzu who taught art history in high school. She looked like a version of herself that had been hidden away for too long.
Not long after, she met up with Airi, her longtime friend from university, at the station. Airi was striking, outgoing, confident—the kind of person who could talk to anyone within five minutes.
They hugged, laughed a little, and got on a train heading to the northern outskirts of the city.
They had decided to go to a place called Kōra. Low lighting, a red neon sign, and already a long line outside. When they entered in the club, the air was warm, thick with perfume and music.
The floor vibrated from the bass, and people were everywhere. Voices, laughter, phone flashes, clinking glasses—chaos in all directions. But they decided to head in anyway.
Yuzu, though, instantly felt a little dazed. Her hand instinctively closed around her purse, but Airi grabbed her wrist.
"Let's get to the bar before we get crushed."
She nodded.
They made their way through the crowd. The occasional "excuse me" or "sorry" murmured under their breath.
They reached the bar. It was glossy, long, crowded, and a little sticky.
The scent of lime, gin, burnt sugar hung in the air.
Yuzu ordered a gin and tonic. Airi went for a mojito.
While they waited, hands lightly resting on the bar, Yuzu felt Airi nudge her with her elbow and whisper, amused:
"Those two should be illegal, right?"
Yuzu turned.
And saw him.
Gojo.
At the far end of the bar.
In the darkest spot—yet somehow the most crowded. As if the people, unknowingly, were being pulled toward him.
His black jacket was open, stylish but not overdone.
A black blindfold tied neatly around his eyes.
His messy white hair fell carelessly, beautifully, into place.
Around his wrist, his watch glinted faintly under the flickering lights.
Next to him stood a boy with black hair tied into a half ponytail, ear gauges, broad shoulders, and a sharp gaze. He was smiling—but just barely.
Almost like a shadow. Almost like a guardian.
Yuzu froze.
Glass in hand, still half full.
Her lips slightly parted, her breath caught halfway.
She didn't know whether to hide, walk away, or smile.
She did nothing.
Still convinced that with that blindfold, he couldn't see her.
Still convinced that maybe… he hadn't even noticed her.
A foolish thought.
But her body believed it more than her mind did.
So she stayed still.
Then she looked away.
Stared at the ice melting in her glass.
Breathed again.
Turned toward Airi.
Smiled. Faintly. But gracefully.
Her heart beat a little faster.
Silently.
They made their way to the center of the room. The dance floor swayed like one single body—there were so many people moving. The DJ kept the energy high. The lights cut through the space in red and blue streaks. The music was loud, but not unbearable. Just loud enough to drown out thoughts.
And that night, Yuzu had plenty of those.
Airi took a sip of her cocktail and let herself go. She started dancing freely, like she couldn't care less about who was watching.
Yuzu, on the other hand, began slowly.
One step.
Then another.
Glass in hand.
Back straight.
Shoulders trying to relax.
But her eyes were moving.
Searching.
Airi noticed.
She didn't say anything.
Just smiled. And swayed a little more.
Yuzu tried to let go.
She didn't see them again. Neither Gojo, nor the other guy.
Their corner was now occupied by someone else. Drunk boys, open shirts, empty stares.
Her shoulders loosened.
Little by little.
The smile became real.
She went back to the bar.
Ordered a light drink—elderflower and vodka.
She drank it in a few sips.
Ordered another.
Then laughed at something Airi said.
Laughed again.
The table was there, in the side area. Tall, with bar stools.
Sticky with dried alcohol. Two worn-out coasters. A fake candle glowing.
They talked.
About guys.
About exes.
About weird teachers.
About how Yuzu never went out.
And about how beautiful she looked.
That night.
Yuzu was laughing.
Her head slightly tilted back. Her hair spilling down her back, reaching the curve of her hips. Her small legs, white as porcelain, crossed. Shiny boots. Rosy cheeks. Bright eyes.
She was tipsy.
Beautiful.
But then the music changed.
Suddenly.
It slowed.
Became darker, more sensual. The bass shook her insides.
Airi grabbed her by the arm.
"Come on, this time we really dance."
Yuzu didn't need convincing.
She returned to the center of the floor.
And there… something changed.
Not all at once.
But naturally.
As if her body had been waiting for that rhythm to let go.
Her arms flowed.
Her hips followed the bass with grace.
Her torso dipped gently, soft and fluid.
Her hair flew around her.
She wasn't overdoing it.
She wasn't trying to provoke.
But something in the way she moved was deeply seductive.
She danced for herself.
And that, more than anything… made her impossible to ignore.
From time to time, Airi leaned in to say something in her ear. Yuzu nodded often and smiled.
When the music calmed down, they returned to the table—her glass now empty, her breath warm on her lips. But they stopped abruptly.
Someone was already sitting there.
Two men.
Gojo. And the other guy.
He sat there like it was nothing.
Same jacket.
Same dark trousers.
Still wearing the blindfold.
Even here, in the dim light of the club.
As if light had never been a problem for him.
His friend looked at her but said nothing.
Leaning back in his seat, his gaze calm.
As if they had just sat there by chance.
As if he didn't know exactly what was happening.
Yuzu froze. Again.
A suspended moment.
Airi glanced sideways at her, surprised.
Eyebrows slightly raised. A half-smile on her lips.
Gojo stood up.
Took a step toward her.
Slowly.
He smiled faintly.
"I thought this table was free… but it seems I was mistaken."