Emi let the comfortable silence stretch between them as they walked, hyperaware of Satori's hand still holding hers. His fingers were warm, slightly calloused, and wrapped around her smaller hand with a gentle but confident pressure. The simple contact sent tiny electric pulses up her arm, making her chest flutter with unfamiliar sensations.

"I can practically hear you thinking," Satori said, squeezing her hand lightly, his deep voice cutting through her reverie.

Emi laughed, her blue hair bobbing with the movement, those two distinctive antenna-like strands bouncing in sync with her mood. "Sorry! I just—this wasn't how I imagined today going at all."

"Disappointed?" His eyebrow rose slightly, creating a tiny crease in his forehead that Emi found herself wanting to smooth away.

"No!" She shook her head emphatically, perhaps a bit too eagerly. "The opposite, actually. This has been... unexpected but really nice."

They turned a corner, and Emi's attention was immediately captured by a building pulsing with neon lights in vibrant shades of purple, blue, and pink. The entrance to "Sound Scape" looked like a portal to another dimension, sleek and modern with holographic displays showing music videos and advertisements for private rooms available. Bass-heavy music spilled out in rhythmic waves whenever the doors opened to admit or release patrons, like heartbeats of the building itself.

Satori stopped, following her gaze. "You like karaoke?"

"Who doesn't?" Emi grinned, her reddish-brown eyes lighting up with genuine excitement.

He turned to her, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "After everything that happened today, I think we deserve a little fun. How about it? I bet you have an amazing singing voice."

"I definitely do not," Emi laughed, tossing her blue hair back with her free hand, "but I make up for lack of talent with enthusiasm and interpretive dance moves!"

"Perfect." Satori tugged gently on her hand, the warmth of his touch spreading through her fingers. "Let's go."

Before she could second-guess herself or worry about making a fool of herself in front of him, they were entering the building. The hostess, dressed in a futuristic uniform that sparkled under the ambient lighting, led them down a corridor lined with doors, each emblazoned with a different constellation. She stopped at "Lyra" and ushered them into a private room that was far more luxurious than Emi had expected.

The space featured a plush, U-shaped leather couch surrounding a gleaming black table with embedded touch controls. A massive holographic screen dominated one wall, currently displaying the Sound Scape logo spinning slowly in 3D, casting prismatic reflections across the polished surfaces. The mood lighting bathed the room in a cool blue glow that shifted subtly through different shades, creating an intimate atmosphere that made Emi suddenly very aware of being alone with Satori.

"This is fancy," Emi whispered as they settled onto the couch, her fingers trailing appreciatively over the buttery-soft leather.

Satori shrugged off his jacket with casual grace, exposing his arms fully for the first time that day. Emi tried not to stare at the defined muscles shifting under his skin, but she couldn't help noticing how the sleeve of his t-shirt hugged his bicep, revealing a physique far more developed than his loose clothing had suggested. The gym photo she'd seen didn't do him justice – the real thing had a presence, a solidity that made her mouth go slightly dry. She quickly looked away when he caught her looking, heat rising to her cheeks.

A server appeared with menus, taking their orders for drinks and sharing plates. When the door closed behind him with a soft pneumatic hiss, Satori picked up the song selection tablet and offered it to Emi with a slight bow.

"Ladies first, Aoyama-san." His voice carried a playful challenge that made her heart skip.

Emi took the tablet, their fingers brushing momentarily as she scrolled through the extensive song library. "I'm warning you now, I'm terrible at this. Like, embarrassingly bad."

"I somehow doubt that." His eyes softened, the harsh edges of his usual expression melting away. "You strike me as someone who puts their whole heart into everything they do. That counts for more than technical skill."

Heat rushed to Emi's cheeks as she focused intently on the screen, suddenly finding the alphabetical organization of artists fascinating. "You've known me for like a day. That's a pretty big assumption."

"And yet I feel like I've known you much longer," he replied, his voice carrying a strange weight that made her look up.

Emi's finger hovered over the screen before finally selecting "Celestial Starbeam," the theme song from her favorite Hunter show – a guilty pleasure she rarely admitted to watching.

"I love this one!" she admitted as the opening notes filled the room, the sound system reproducing every nuance with crystal clarity. "It's super cheesy, but the lyrics always make me happy. They remind me why I want to be a Hunter."

Satori leaned back on the couch, one arm stretched across the back, watching her with amused interest, his posture relaxed yet somehow still attentive. "Don't hold back on my account. I want to see the real Emi Aoyama."

The first verse began, and Emi sang quietly, still seated, her voice barely audible over the backing track. But as the pre-chorus built toward its emotional peak, something in the music called to her inner performer. Maybe it was the courage she'd borrowed from Satori all day, or maybe it was just the infectious beat and the safety of this private space, but she stood up, clutching the microphone like a lifeline.

By the time the chorus hit with its soaring melody, Emi was completely lost in the music. She twirled around the small space with abandon, her skirt flaring out in a circle of fabric, her voice growing louder and more confident with each line. The lyrics about finding your inner light and sharing it with the world felt suddenly personal, resonant with something deep inside her. She pointed dramatically at imaginary foes during the bridge, adding little dance moves she'd seen the idol perform in music videos, her body moving with natural rhythm despite her claims of having no talent.

When she finally chanced a glance at Satori, she expected to find him laughing at her enthusiastic but amateur performance. Instead, he was watching her with a genuine smile that transformed his entire face. His eyes crinkled at the corners, his shoulders relaxed, and in that moment he looked younger, lighter—like someone who hadn't carried the weight of the world on his shoulders for far too long.

That smile gave her wings. Emi belted out the final chorus with everything she had, hitting notes she didn't know were in her range, ending with a dramatic superhero pose, her chest heaving slightly as she caught her breath. She collapsed back onto the couch beside Satori, laughing at her own exuberance, her face flushed with exertion and happiness.

"That was amazing," he said, and there was no mockery in his voice, only genuine appreciation that made her heart swell.

"Your turn!" Emi handed him the microphone. "No pressure, but I think I set a pretty high bar."

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