Then she smiled—that perfect, impossible, heartbreaking smile—and kept walking.
Outside, the Tokyo night was cold and neon-bright. X walked alone toward the train station, her shadow stretching long behind her. She passed a puddle reflecting a billboard for a major idol group—stadium tours, TV appearances, millions of followers. Her own reflection sat beside it, small and water-rippled. Underground Idol X Raised In R-peture -Dear Fan...
She turned to the elderly nurse. “You lost someone last week. You don’t have to smile tonight.” The nurse’s lip quivered. “How did you—?” X just squeezed her hand. “The way you held your sign. The paper was crumpled on the left side. That’s your grief side.” Then she smiled—that perfect
So X walked on.
X didn’t need a stadium.