Tokyo's Phantom Thief

After escorting the twins home, Rinto waved them off, watching as they disappeared upstairs.

He didn't follow them up—not after how things had gone when they first met. The girls had been way too casual, bringing him home like an old friend from day one. That had led to plenty of awkward situations.

Their mother had been more than welcoming, practically treating Rinto like her own son. She'd even invited him to stay over multiple times.

But their father… was another story.

That overprotective dad had the most intimidating stare, pushing his glasses up with a sharp clack every time he looked at Rinto, radiating pure pressure.

Apparently, the man was a high court judge.

No wonder he carried such gravitas.

Thinking back on all the things he'd done during his three-year phantom thief career—most of which barely skirted the law—Rinto suddenly had a lot more sympathy for Kaito Kid.

So, to avoid ending up dissected by a protective father, he'd resolved to minimize his visits. Thus, the current balance was established.

That said, if you considered the fact that this supposedly strict dad still allowed his daughters to visit a young man's home every single morning…

Well, he was actually a pretty open-minded parent. He trusted them.

Rinto genuinely appreciated that. Honestly, he was even a little envious.

"I'm home."

He pushed open the warped front door again—screeeeech—and the familiar groan echoed through the house.

After a quick rinse-up, he got started on dinner.

"Welcome back~."

Momoka was lounging on the couch, strumming her guitar with one leg crossed over the other, not even glancing his way.

Since she usually got home before Rinto, her job was to prep the vegetable salad in advance.

Rinto's part was to grab a handful of homegrown bean sprouts, toss them with marinated chicken breast strips, stir-fry everything, and make miso soup with supermarket seaweed stock.

He liked adding discounted enoki mushrooms to the premade soup base—it was a small touch, but it made the meal feel like a lucky little win when you ate it.

This was dinner for two broke drifters in Tokyo: simple, functional, single-life cuisine.

By the time Rinto brought the dishes to the bar counter, Momoka had already put down her guitar and scurried over.

Just like the Yoshizawa sisters earlier, she ignored the open seat across from him and insisted on sitting right next to him.

The older girl grinned like an idiot.

"Sorry for always making you cook, Rinto~. I can cook too, y'know. We could alternate if you want?"

Rinto immediately shot back, "Yeah, but you'd quit after, like, three days. We'd be back to instant ramen, convenience store bento, or worst case—hot pot stew with everything just dumped in, right?"

Momoka puffed up her cheeks like a sulky kid, sipping her soup in silence.

She mumbled under her breath, "Hot pot stew is actually really good…" but not loud enough to argue.

Rinto added,

"Besides, I enjoy cooking, so it's fine. And you're a musician, right? If you mess up your hand with a knife, there goes your livelihood. You making salad is more than enough."

"Grrgh…" Momoka looked unconvinced, cheeks still puffed.

She knew he was just trying to take care of her. And maybe that's why it made her feel all kinds of weird and itchy inside.

"I'm supposed to be older than you, but it totally feels like you're the one looking after me. And worst of all, you're completely right. That just pisses me off more… You logical bastard. Mr. Blunt Honesty. Closet Casanova."

"Okay, that last one was definitely a personal attack," Rinto said flatly. "I'm still a virgin, you know. Casanova my ass."

...Needless to say, this was not the kind of joke you'd want the innocent Yoshizawa twins to overhear.

If they ever took it seriously, Rinto might actually lose his V-card in a lawsuit. He had no intention of getting dismembered by the judge-dad.

Banter aside, Momoka still polished off her plate.

She ate with zero pretense—no girlish airs, no forced elegance. Just genuine appreciation for the food. It was oddly satisfying to watch.

After refilling her bowl and mixing the leftover sauce into her rice, she finally set down her chopsticks with a content sigh.

"Thanks for the meal! As always, it was amazing. You really should work in a restaurant kitchen, Rinto. I bet the boss would marry you into the family!"

"Appreciate it. Just soak the dishes for now—I'll do them when I get back."

Rinto checked the time.

Momoka had a regular routine: street performances near the train station that lasted until the last train home.

In a way, that was her real job.

Indie musicians built their fanbases through those grassroots gigs. With enough traction on social media, they might get scouted and signed by a label.

Sure, performing in LiveHouses was also an option…

But the risk was huge. If you couldn't fill enough seats, you'd end up paying out of pocket to rent the venue. And that killed your budget fast.

Unfortunately, Momoka didn't just lack exposure—she was solo. She didn't even have bandmates to back her up.

She had the looks, sure. A cool, gorgeous rocker vibe. But on the inside, she was as timid as a rabbit. She didn't have the guts to face a crowd alone and just sing her heart out.

"…Honestly, if Diamond Dust hadn't gone the idol route, you guys could've dominated the LiveHouse scene."

"..."

Rinto's simple comment was met with silence.

Momoka didn't answer.

Because Diamond Dust had once been her band—a signed group that had even produced a breakout hit.

But in the end, the band broke apart due to management issues and unresolved drama.

The other members kept the band name and went on without her, switching to an idol-like style that catered more to mainstream tastes.

Momoka, meanwhile, walked away with nothing. She even gave up the rights to their most successful song—just handed it over to her old friends and started from scratch, living paycheck to paycheck.

It was… kind of stupid.

Rinto remembered being stunned the first time he heard the full story.

But still…

That's the kind of person she is. And maybe that's exactly why I like her.

"Go get changed. I'll grab the mic and the CDs you're selling. Just bring your guitar. Oh—and don't forget to post an update on your socials. You've gotta keep the momentum going."

"Yeah yeah, got it. What are you, my manager now?"

Momoka rolled her eyes, but her lips curled into a smile she couldn't hide.

As embarrassing as it was, she really did enjoy having someone by her side—someone who genuinely cared and supported her.