Haruka adjusted into a slightly more comfortable position and opened the schedule management app called “Schedule Pro” on her phone.
Ritsu had already synced the latest schedule over.
When she tapped the shared link, a row of colorful blocks popped up on the screen.
At 2:30 PM today, there was the follow-up for Teacher Meihe’s rehabilitation training evaluation, lasting until 5:30 PM.
The evening block was gray, meaning no shows tonight.
She pulled down the timeline and saw that tomorrow’s block was also gray, which made her very excited.
But further down, the day after tomorrow’s schedule made her gasp.
The day after tomorrow at 9 AM, there was a comeback interview recording at a major TV station, lasting until noon; at 1:30 PM, a special guest live stream for a vocal internet radio station, where she would not only chat but also sing live and interact; at 7 PM, an agency performance planning meeting.
“This schedule is way too packed… How is there not even a lunch break in between?” Haruka couldn’t help complaining. “Forget it, at least I have a day off tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s full day off is swapped from next Tuesday. Originally, tomorrow only had a new song trial in the afternoon, but the arranger had something come up, so they moved tomorrow’s show to next Tuesday.”
“Hey! Can’t you let me be happy for a second?!”
—
The minibus smoothly merged into the slightly congested midday traffic in Minato Ward.
The sunlight outside was glaring, but filtered through the dark window tint, the light falling on the back seats became much softer.
“Mr. Uehara, please pull over at the intersection ahead.”
Ritsu, sitting in the passenger seat, suddenly spoke.
Mr. Uehara complied and pulled up smoothly on the service road near a convenience store.
Ritsu unbuckled his seatbelt and, before pushing the door open, turned back to say, “I’m going to buy something. Stay in the car and don’t wander off.”
“I know—I’m not a kid anymore.”
With the door slamming shut, the cabin fell completely silent, leaving only the faint white noise from the air conditioning vents.
With nothing to do, Haruka took out her phone and opened the app again, swiping randomly across the screen.
Out of sheer impulse, she scrolled the schedule calendar backward, flipping to the schedule about a month and a half ago.
The moment the screen loaded that week’s image, Haruka’s pupils violently shook.
If her own schedule could still be called “colorful blocks,” then these historical records could only be described as the “Wall of Sighs.”
She randomly tapped on one day’s details:
7:50 AM: Class
8:45 AM: Leave early
9:30 AM: Arrive at TV station, begin recording a late-night variety show.
Continuous recording for five hours until 2:00 PM.
2:20 PM: Lunch on the minibus while rushing to the next location (allotted time: fifteen minutes).
3:00 PM: Participate in a planning meeting for a major music program.
6:00 PM: Attend a large joint concert as a special guest, with dress rehearsal and live performance.
9:00 PM: Return to the agency, rehearse dance moves for a new single in the B1 practice room.
11:00 PM: End rehearsal, head home.
“…”
Haruka’s mouth hung open as she stared at the timeline that had almost no gaps from morning to night.
Compared to this densely packed schedule, her earlier complaints seemed like a rookie’s.
Fifteen hours of activity in one day, only able to scarf down food in the car, and then dragging her exhausted body to practice dance moves for the next day at night.
“She’s basically a superhuman…”
Haruka murmured to herself in admiration.
She originally thought her own nonstop days were tiring enough, but now comparing them, she realized that the seemingly tight schedule Ritsu had given her was actually a mercifully simplified version, considering she had just been discharged from the hospital after the car accident.
“Alright, I’ll stop complaining.”
Haruka silently exited the history screen, locked her phone, and obediently paid the highest respect in her heart to that true idol.
After four or five minutes, the door opened again, and cold air poured in along with a scent.
Ritsu sat back in the passenger seat and casually tossed a plastic bag with the convenience store logo onto the back seat.
“Eat.”
Ritsu didn’t even turn his head.
While fastening his seatbelt, he said to Mr. Uehara, “Let’s go, back to the agency.”
Haruka curiously opened the plastic bag.
Inside were a bottle of room-temperature oolong tea and two plump rice balls.
Through the transparent wrapping, she immediately saw the large characters on the label: Mentaiko.
At that moment, Haruka’s eyes lit up.
She knew Hoshino Haruka’s favorite flavor was mentaiko, but she never expected Ritsu to go out of his way to buy her favorite for her.
The moment she opened the wrapper, hunger stirred in her stomach.
But before that, she looked at the man sitting upright in the front seat, and an uncontrollable urge to “act up” surged up.
She deliberately cleared her throat, leaned forward, and half-lay over the back of the passenger seat.
She poked the headrest with her finger and rested her chin on the edge of the seat.
Then, in a voice that was sickly sweet, with three parts teasing and seven parts exaggerated, she began: “Oh my, oh my—”
Ritsu’s fingers tapping on his phone paused slightly, but he didn’t turn around.
“Who would have thought? The demon manager who’s always cold-faced and only pushes me to work actually knows how to care for people in private?”
Haruka held up the mentaiko rice ball and waved it near Ritsu’s cheek.
“You even specially went to the convenience store to pick my favorite mentaiko flavor. Could it be that Mr. Ritsu has been secretly paying attention to my preferences all along? Wow, I’m so touched—”
‘Damn you, Mizutagawa Ritsu! Back when I was your buddy, you always had a sour face and clashed with me. Now that you’re dealing with a pretty girl, you seamlessly switch into a central air conditioner warm guy, huh? Double standard!’
However, she underestimated Mizutagawa Ritsu’s defenses.
Ritsu didn’t even turn his head once.
“It’s a thirty-minute drive until we reach the agency’s basement. If you can’t finish eating and swallow it within ten minutes, then during Teacher Meihe’s rehabilitation training this afternoon, you’ll likely vomit on the practice room floor due to stomach cramps. Want to try?”
Hearing his extremely mood-killing, matter-of-fact, ice-cold tone, Haruka immediately shut her mouth in defeat.
“Tch… A heartless old man. No wonder you’re single.”
‘He’s lucky to be single.’
She grumbled fiercely in her heart, obediently shrinking back into the back seat.
She tore open the rice ball wrapper and took a large bite without hesitation.
The mildly spicy mentaiko mixed with the soft rice spread across her mouth, finally soothing her hungry stomach.
Haruka squinted in satisfaction.
Even though she had lost face verbally, she had to admit the rice ball tasted pretty good.
The cabin fell silent again, only the soft sounds of Haruka chewing and occasionally drinking tea.
While eating the rice ball, Haruka secretly glanced at Ritsu through the rearview mirror.
The man remained in his working posture, as if the little incident earlier never happened.
But for some reason, as she ate this mentaiko rice ball, the “superhuman schedule” she had seen earlier involuntarily came to mind.
In those countless days and nights of nonstop work, where even meal times were compressed to fifteen minutes, was it also this person who, expressionless, bought her favorite food at the convenience store and then coldly calculated the time to urge her to eat?
What could be called “care” seemed to always operate in this man in an extremely rough, blunt, yet meticulous way.
“Anyway, I’ll remember this grudge.”
Haruka chewed the rice vigorously, snorting in her mind.
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