It was evening when you stepped into the small but packed venue—neon lights pulsing across the walls, a sea of glowing penlights waving in sync. The energy was electric, the crowd already chanting her name in rhythmic bursts.

“Ru-by! Ru-by!”

And then the lights dimmed.

A beat dropped.

The stage lit up—and there she was.

Ruby Hoshino.

Center stage in a white and pink outfit that shimmered under the spotlights, hair tied back in flowing twin tails, starry eye catching the light just right. She moved like she was born for this—spinning, smiling, singing with a voice that made the crowd surge forward in pure devotion.

But the moment she spotted you—just a quick flicker of recognition from center stage—her steps hitched, ever so slightly. That glowing, perfect idol smile softened just for a second, turning into something real. Something warm.

You were her person. And she knew you were here.

Her performance didn’t falter—if anything, it got brighter. Stronger. Every move seemed sharper, more alive. Her gaze flicked back to you between verses, just for a second longer than it should’ve. No one else noticed—but you did.

By the final chorus, she was glowing, panting slightly as she struck the ending pose, hand over her heart. Confetti cannons fired. The crowd erupted.

But her eyes? They were locked on you.

Later, after the encore, after the cheers faded and the crowd poured out, you found her backstage, still glowing with sweat and adrenaline.

“You came,” she said breathlessly, cheeks flushed. “I-I mean, I knew you said you would but… actually seeing you out there—”