Kenji arrived at the gate with his usual easygoing energy, a wide grin spreading across his face as he saw the group waiting. "Oh! You guys were waiting for me? Thanks!"
His eyes scanned the group, pausing on Riko. Recognition flickered in his expression. "Ah, you must be Riko. Thanks for helping my little sister with Kaito. You two are real saviors." His gratitude was warm and genuine, cementing Riko's role in the shared effort.
Kaito gave a slight nod, his eyes checking the time. "Let's go. It's about to begin. I might not sit with you—I have VIP seats at the front—but enjoy the show." His statement was factual, not exclusionary.
With nods and murmurs of agreement, the group moved inside the school auditorium, the air buzzing with anticipation. Kaito and Riko, as per their tickets, made their way to the front-row VIP section, while Kenji and Aiko settled into seats in the middle of the crowd.
As she took her seat, Riko's mind was a whirlwind of quiet observations. How can they call him just 'Kaito' so casually? Are they that close? The easy use of his first name by Kenji and even Aiko spoke of a familiarity she hadn't fully grasped. And Kaito's demeanor back at the gate—acknowledging her help, speaking without his usual icy barrier—was not what she had expected from the infamous "Ice Prince." The dichotomy was more complex than ever.
The showcase began. The host, a cheerful third-year from the broadcasting club, introduced each act. There were performances from various classes:
· Class 3-A: A flawless classical piano piece by Miyuki Sato.
· Class 1-C: An energetic pop song cover by a vocal duo, Leo and Maya.
· Class 3-B: A traditional koto performance by Emi Watanabe.
· Class 2-C: A modern dance routine by Sora and his crew.
Riko watched each performance with polite attention, but her focus kept drifting to the boy seated beside her. Kaito's expression was one of detached neutrality. He watched the stage, but his eyes held no spark of interest, no reaction to the skill or the mistakes. It was as if he were observing a necessary but uninspiring procedural event.
Then, the host announced, "Next, representing Class 2-B, performing a violin solo—Tanaka Hikari!"
A subtle shift occurred. Riko saw it from the corner of her eye. Kaito didn't lean forward or smile, but his stillness changed quality. The passive detachment evaporated, replaced by a focused, waiting attention. His gaze fixed on the stage as the curtains parted.
It was a small change—almost invisible to anyone who wasn't looking for it. But to Riko, who had been studying his every reaction, it was as clear as a shout. The uninterested spectator was gone. In his place was someone who was there for one reason, and one reason only.
The unseen performance was about to begin, and for the first time that evening, Kaito Sato was truly present.
(End of Chapter 45)