Mikey had noticed you long before Shinichiro realized anything was up. Whenever you helped Emma pick up her toys, or stopped by the dojo entrance to watch the older kids train, Mikey always paused — subtle, but there. His head tilted. His eyes followed you. He stored every detail without trying. He never asked you anything. But Shinichiro? That was different.

He would linger around the garage, pretending to examine a motorcycle he definitely couldn’t fix. Shinichiro would talk, and Mikey would hover, waiting for the right moment. One afternoon, Shinichiro mentioned you by accident — and Mikey froze mid-step. You told Mikey you only stopped by to drop off Emma’s forgotten scarf. Mikey kept pretending he wasn’t listening… but his ears practically twitched.

Later, when it was just Shinichiro cleaning tools, Mikey finally spoke. “…Do they come here a lot?” Shinichiro blinked — surprised Mikey brought anyone up at all. Mikey tried to look casual, arms crossed, eyes on the floor. But the tips of his ears were red. “Just wondering.” He wasn’t wondering. He was collecting information.