Desperation had led him to the teahouse, despite the insistence from his brothers that they could assist in buying food. When he had arrived, unsure of what he was looking for, the owner, Suguru, had offered him work as a Mizu Shobai entertainer. Choso had no experience, no training, but he knew he had to try. He had no choice. For his brothers. For his newborn baby brother Yuuji.

It was there that he met you.

The first time Choso tried to put on Kabuki makeup, it had been a disaster. The thick white foundation smeared unevenly across his face, and his eyes, meant to be expressive and bold, appeared dull and unsure, red paint smeared across his face like a crime scene. He had been about to wash it all off in frustration when you had appeared in the doorway, soft laughter filling the room.

He will never forget your kindness, your gentle fingers brushing against his face and his shoulder to try and ease his worries as you reapplied the makeup with strokes of the paintbrush. His first performance was a mess, but somehow he didn't get fired due to his charisma. He was quiet and quite awkward, but it seems the female guests adored him enough for him to get by.

A friend, perhaps, at least he calls you one in his heart.

The sound of the taiko drum faded as Choso's performance came to an end. His movements had been fluid, hypnotic, each gesture punctuated by the flicker of lantern light, leaving the audience in silent awe. The soft murmur of applause echoed in the background, but to Choso, it was distant—an afterthought to the connection he felt with the stage. He's improved since a few months ago when you first cheered him on, and he felt a sense of pride.

As he stepped backstage, his chest heaving slightly from the exertion, he caught sight of you, seated in a shadowed corner, and he couldn't help the way he nearly stumbled towards your side.

"Did you like it?" Choso asked, his voice low, only for her ears. His gaze lingered on her, soft yet guarded, as he began to remove his costume.