Even after she realized she was being watched, Reina did not straighten the hem of her skirt.

More precisely, it was not that she could not.

She chose not to.

The small live-music club looked suddenly smaller once the audience was gone.

The sound that had pressed against their bodies only moments before was gone. All that remained were the scrape of equipment carts over the floor and the dry sound of tape being peeled away. The stage lights had been cut, replaced by stark white work lights. Scratches in the floor and dust gathered along the walls stood out with an odd clarity, things she had not been able to see during the set.

“Reina, can you get that?”

Mizuki pointed at the wall while coiling an amplifier cable.

A strip of black tape was still stuck high up. It had probably held a paper sign with the performers’ names. Only one end had come loose, trembling in the current from the air-conditioning.

“Yeah. I’ll do it.”

Before she had even finished answering, Reina was unfolding the ladder from the wings.

She was the kind of person who moved before anyone had to ask. She smiled before someone else had to fill an awkward silence, stepped toward whatever work needed another pair of hands. She could talk easily with staff she had only just met, and if someone from another band invited them for post-show drinks, she could keep the air light while waiting for the other three to answer.

It was not because she wanted people to like her.

At least, that was what Reina believed.

Still, she was good at noticing the goodwill people directed her way. Someone who smiled back. Someone who praised her singing. Someone who said they wanted to hear her again. Once she understood what a person wanted from her, it was not hard to meet them there.

She was used to being looked at.

That was why this did not feel like a familiar kind of gaze.

“You’re climbing up in those shoes?”

At Risa’s voice, Reina looked down at her feet.

“Okay, that really is dangerous.”

“It really is.”

When she slipped off her heels, she suddenly felt shorter.

She was still in her stage outfit: a black lace top and a short skirt. She had chosen it because it looked good with her arms raised, because it caught the red light onstage. While the audience had been in darkness, she had not realized how little protection the fabric offered.

Through sheer stockings, the ladder’s metal pressed coldly against the soles of her feet.

One step. Then another.

The second rung down from the top of the five-step ladder. It was the sort of place where words alone could not decide whether it was safe or dangerous. Reina held the top platform steady with one hand and stretched her other arm toward the wall.

Her fingertips reached the edge of the tape.

She caught it with a nail and began to peel it back, little by little.

Behind her, an equipment case snapped shut. Hardware clicked into place. Someone laughed. Hiyori, carrying her bass case, disappeared toward the dressing rooms with Mizuki. Risa was checking around the drums for anything left behind.

Reina let out a breath without taking her eyes from the wall.

The heat of the show was still inside her.

At the opening of the first song, her breathing had been shallow. Her shoulders had risen, and her grip on the microphone had been tighter than it needed to be. By the first chorus, her voice had finally begun to come from lower in her body; once they reached the second verse, her shoulders and fingers had loosened a beat late.

After that, she thought she had sung well.

The audience had not reacted badly either.

Except for the drummer from the other band watching her from the wings.

No. That did not need to be an exception.

It was normal for performers to watch the other bands. Reina did it. Mizuki did it. Before and after their sets, they watched from the wings or the floor. There was no reason to decide that he had been watching Reina in particular.

Their eyes had only met a few times by chance.

The first time she had spoken to him had been before the show.

“Reina, right?”

He had used her given name too quickly.

They had only just met. Her family name would have been enough; using her given name already felt too close. She had thought that, but before waiting for her answer, he had gone on about the running order and where the after-show gathering would be, in the tone someone might use with a person they had known for years.

When he laughed, he stepped half a pace closer.

When Reina stepped half a pace back, he did not follow.

Even that measured distance made her dislike him.

And yet she could not bring herself to dislike the way he played the drums.

The side of his face, visible from the wings, was far more expressionless than when he spoke. Sweat had darkened the back of his T-shirt. Each time he swung his arms, the muscle in his shoulders shifted. He looked as though he played with brute force, but the sound never broke apart. Even in the middle of a fast song, the axis of his upper body stayed steady, as if his whole body were waiting for the next strike.

Reina followed his breath the way she watched someone sing.

She thought that was all it was.

Half the tape had come away from the wall.

Then a gaze touched her back.

In reality, a gaze had no heat, no fingertips. It could not touch her. And still, Reina felt as though a single line had been traced across the skin beneath her lace top.

Her hand did not stop.

She turned only her face, slightly, to the side.

He was there in the darkness beyond the front rows.

The other band’s drummer.

Most of the other performers had already gone to the dressing rooms or the loading entrance. The man had one hand resting on a front-row chair. He could have been looking for some of his things on the floor.

She could not make out his face clearly.

But she knew where he was looking.

From her waist to the hem of her short skirt. Then to the legs below it.

She could have held the hem in place.

All she had to do was lower her arm and pull the fabric down a little.

If that felt impossible, she could have climbed down. Someone else could have taken care of the tape. It was not as if the world would suffer if it stayed there a few more minutes.

There were any number of things she could have done.

Reina chose none of them.

Heat gathered in the inside of her cheeks. A moment later, something deep in her lower body tightened.

She told herself it was fear.

It was dangerous to move suddenly when she was high up. Better to peel the tape off first than to let go halfway through. She was only thinking about safety.

It was a reasonable enough explanation.

But while she was making it, Reina kept checking whether his gaze was still there.

She drew her knees together.

On the ladder, it made her posture more awkward. One knee turned inward; the position of her hips shifted slightly. The hem of her skirt crept up by the smallest amount.

The thin metal beneath her feet gave a small creak.

A different heat spread beneath the stockings that had felt cold a moment ago.

Reina turned back toward the wall.

Now he could not see her face.

She could not see his.

She could not see him, and still she knew he was looking.

By turning her back, she felt as though she had handed over the outline of her body. Each time she stretched her arm, the hem of her top rose and cool air touched the side of her waist. When she breathed in, the lace rubbed faintly against her chest.

The small sensation traveled all the way through her.

It felt as if someone might notice.

Notice what?

Something Reina still could not answer for herself.

She thought she hated this kind of look.

That feeling was not a lie.

She disliked the man’s overly familiar way of speaking. She was not the kind of woman who enjoyed being appraised without permission.

She was not enjoying this.

Then why, after wanting the tape gone as soon as possible, had she begun pulling it more slowly?

The thin adhesive stretched away from the wall with a dry sound.

Five more centimeters.

Then three.

Reina looked back one more time.

Their eyes met.

This time it was not an accident.

He did not look away in a rush. He did not offer an embarrassed smile or pretend to be looking somewhere else. He only looked back at Reina.

She should have given him a reproachful look.

What are you looking at?

If she said it aloud, that would end it.

Reina was good with people. She knew how to correct someone without souring the air, how to make a point with a smile.

And yet, at that moment, not one of the words she ought to have had came out.

His gaze did not apologize.

Nor did it move any closer.

It seemed to Reina that he would wait if she climbed down, accept her anger if she showed it, and if she said nothing, go on looking through that silence.

She did not know what he was actually thinking.

Because she did not know, her body answered for her.

Her heartbeat grew stronger. Her shallow breathing suddenly deepened. Heat gathered between the knees she had been holding tight, and though she did not move her hips, she could think only of the places where the fabric touched her skin.

Now, more than during the show, it was her body that was being watched.

Not her voice. Not her singing.

What Reina was feeling, and the way she was trying to hide it.

The last piece of tape came free.

It dangled from her fingers. Nothing was left on the wall.

She had to climb down.

Still, Reina did not move right away.

Only a second or two.

The man looked away first.

He picked up the stick bag from the floor and slung it over his shoulder.

“Good work.”

He left the words behind without making clear whom he meant them for, then walked toward the exit.

The heavy door opened, and a long strip of white hallway light fell inside.

The door closed again almost at once.

Only then did Reina breathe out.

What a relief, she thought.

This was fine. Nothing had happened. He had not spoken to her. He had not come closer. He had only looked at her.

He had only looked at her.

She rolled the peeled tape in her hand.

Then squeezed the soft, crushed ball harder than she needed to.

“Reina?”

Risa’s voice came from below.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Her answer came out a little high.

Reina climbed down one step at a time. Only after both feet touched the floor did she straighten the hem of her skirt. Her fingertips were damp; the stockings clung to the insides of her thighs.

“Your face is red.”

“It was scarier up there than I expected,” Reina said with a smile.

Risa glanced up at the ladder.

“The second rung?”

“High is high, even if it’s only the second rung.”

Once she had returned to her usual way of speaking, Risa did not ask anything more.

The first lie was that small.

Too small, perhaps, to call a lie. It was true that she had been tense on the ladder. She could have fallen and hurt herself. It was not as though every part of what she said was wrong.

It simply was not the whole reason her face had gone red.

When she returned to the dressing room, Hiyori and Mizuki had already changed.

“What about the after-show gathering?” Mizuki asked.

“Sorry. I’m going home tonight.”

“Your boyfriend?”

“I just have an early day tomorrow.”

Hiyori gave a quiet laugh, and Mizuki shrugged as if to say, of course.

There were messages from Reina’s boyfriend.

Is it over? Is your throat okay?

Then another.

Sorry I couldn’t make it today. Next time, I’ll definitely come see you.

Reina’s thumb stopped.

To see her.

There was nothing strange about the phrase. He supported her singing. When he could, he came to the shows and told her afterward, specifically, what he had liked.

She had wanted him there that day.

She really had.

Reina replied, “Thank you. I’m almost done packing up.”

Then, after a small pause, she added, “I wanted to see you too.”

That was not a lie either.

If she chose only words that were not lies, did that mean she had told him the truth?

“Reina, aren’t you changing?”

“I am. Go on ahead.”

The other three left, and she was alone in the dressing room.

Beyond the door, the voices of performers who had finished packing up drifted through the hall. Whenever someone passed, their footsteps came closer, then faded away.

Reina stood before the mirror.

The black lace top. The short skirt. Her hair in disarray. Her cheeks still red, which was not unusual after a show.

How had that man seen her?

The thought came to her, and Reina glared at her own reflection.

“This is awful.”

After saying it quietly, she pulled off her top.

She folded the outfit and undid the fastening of her skirt. When she lowered her stockings from her waist, the heat that had lingered along the insides of her thighs met the cool air in the dressing room.

If it had only been sweat, it would have been easier.

The slight dampness left in her underwear could not be explained by the heat of the show alone.

Reina stopped moving.

Because she had been seen.

The instant she recognized it, the moment on the ladder when their eyes met returned before her shame could take hold.

The eyes that had not looked away.

The time when Reina had said nothing.

His back as he walked away first.

Something deep inside her tightened once more.

“No.”

Even though no one was there, Reina said it aloud.

If it was not that, then what was it?

It was not that she liked a man like him. She disliked the way he spoke, and she had not been happy to be watched. The excitement of the show was still in her. She had been on an unstable ladder. Her body had only mistaken tension for something else.

She could make any number of explanations.

Each was a little true. Every one missed the part that mattered most.

A door opened somewhere in the corridor.

Reina looked at the dressing-room entrance before she could stop herself.

The footsteps did not come closer. They passed on.

Relief came first.

Then, afterward, the smallest trace of disappointment.

Reina changed quickly into her ordinary clothes. Without looking in the mirror, she gathered her things and left the dressing room to catch up with the other three.

Near the exit, a staff member was putting a provisional flyer for the next show up on the wall.

“Ah, Reina. You were great tonight. I think we’ll be asking VEIL to join next month’s joint showcase too.”

“Thank you.”

Reina dipped her head with her usual smile.

The flyer still listed only a date and the names of the bands expected to play.

Third from the top was the name of the band that man belonged to.

“We’re on the same bill again.”

She thought her voice sounded natural.

“Looks like it. They said they liked tonight’s pairing too.”

“Oh.”

Reina did not ask anything else. She pushed open the heavy door and stepped outside.

The night air felt good against cheeks that still held the heat.

Ahead of her, the other three were walking toward the station. A reply from her boyfriend had arrived on her phone.

Don’t push yourself too hard, okay?

As she walked, Reina looked back at the club one more time.

Next month, she would be on the same bill as a man who made her uneasy.

Normally, that was where she would have sighed.

But what Reina found herself caring about at the next show was not how many people would come to hear her sing.

It was whether that man would look at her again.