EPISODE ONE - Finale

The fluorescent lights hummed softly overhead, casting a sterile glow over the empty practice room. The walls were lined with soundproof padding, and a single desk with a microphone sat at the front. It was supposed to be a space for students to refine their craft, but tonight, it felt more like a prison.

Kaede stood in front of the camera, shoulders tense, script trembling in his hands. He had gone over this a dozen times already, yet each attempt felt worse than the last.

"Good day, everyone. I'm Kaede Tetsuo, and tonight —" He stopped, voice cracking mid-sentence. His stomach churned.

He exhaled sharply, rubbing his face. This was his moment—the biggest reporting gig any student had ever gotten—but he was completely bombing it.

His breath hitched. His chest tightened. Was he really cut out for this?

A loud knock at the door made him flinch.

He turned, his pulse still racing from frustration. Hesitantly, he walked over and cracked it open—only to freeze.

Ken.

Ken stood there, hands shoved into his pockets, looking nothing like the cocky senior reporter Kaede had come to dread. His eyes were red, like he hadn't slept—or worse, like he'd been crying.

Kaede swallowed. He knew exactly why.

This was supposed to be Ken's job. The biggest opportunity in the school's journalism program. The one that would have set him apart. But instead, Kaede had been chosen, and Ken had been left behind.

Yet, here he was.

Ken forced a smirk, but it barely held. "You look awful."

Kaede blinked, caught off guard. "…You too what happened to your eyes?"

"Allergens, they are everywhere!" Ken sniffled.

Ken stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his usual swagger missing. He glanced around the room, eyes settling on the messy stack of notes and the still-recording camera.

"So. Practicing, huh?"

Kaede hesitated before nodding. "Yeah. Not going great."

Ken let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah. Figures."

An awkward silence filled the space between them. Kaede didn't know what to say. Ken never talked to him—Ken mocked him, pushed him around, made sure he knew he was beneath him. But right now, Ken just looked… tired.

Ken rubbed the back of his neck. "You know, I was gonna storm in here and give you hell for taking my job." He let out a weak laugh. "But… what's the point?"

Kaede shifted on his feet. "Ken—"

"I've been a jerk, yeah, I know," Ken cut in, waving a hand. "Doesn't change the fact that you're actually pretty damn good at this. Probably on a scale close to me." He sighed. "Pisses me off, honestly."

Kaede's eyes widened. Of all the things he expected to hear from Ken, that wasn't one of them.

Ken exhaled and stepped closer, suddenly pulling Kaede's collar straight and fixing his tie. "You look like a mess, man. No wonder you keep screwing up."

Kaede stiffened as Ken adjusted his outfit with quick, precise movements, muttering small corrections as he went. It was surreal—this was Ken, the same guy who used to shove Kaede's books off desks just to mess with him.

"…Why are you helping me?" Kaede finally asked.

Ken sniffed, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his jacket. "Dunno. Maybe because if you're gonna take my job, you better not embarrass me while doing it."

Kaede's lips parted slightly, the weight of Ken's words settling in.

"…Thanks."

Ken huffed. "Yeah, yeah."

Kaede hesitated for a moment, then—on impulse—stepped forward and hugged him.

Ken tensed immediately. "What the—"

Kaede didn't let go.

For a second, Ken seemed ready to shove him off. But then, slowly, he relaxed.

"…You're a weird kid, you know that?" Ken muttered.

Kaede grinned. "Yeah."

Ken finally pushed him off with a sigh. "Alright, enough of that. You better kill it out there, got it?"

Kaede nodded, something in him settling. "I got it."

Ken turned to leave, pausing at the door. "Tomorrow, maybe… if you don't suck, I'll treat you better."

Kaede chuckled. "I'll hold you to that."

Ken smirked, then walked out.

Kaede took a deep breath. His nerves were still there, but for the first time tonight, they weren't suffocating him. He turned back to the camera, staring at his reflection in the lens.

This was his moment. And this time, he wasn't afraid - maybe just a little.