Kuro

My name was (you choose), one of the biggest idols in Japan. Thousands of fans packed my shows, sang my songs, and said I changed their lives.

But there was a different kind of fan.

Nobody knew his name.

On internet forums, he only used the nickname Kuro.

His face was scarred, his hair hid one eye, and his expression seemed blank. He went unnoticed by the crowd, always standing at the back of the shows, staring intently at the stage.

He never shouted.

I never applauded.

I was just watching.

Over time, strange things began to happen.

Flowers were appearing at my apartment door, without a card.

Photos of me taken from a distance were appearing on an anonymous profile.

The messages said:

"You smiled today at 2:17 PM."

"The blue coat suits you better."

"Don't trust the people around you."

My manager called the police, but no one could find the man.

Until one night, returning from rehearsal, I felt someone following me.

I looked back.

It was him.

Standing at the end of the street.

Property.

The next day, he disappeared again.

Days later, a security guard found an abandoned room. The walls were covered with hundreds of photographs of me, magazine clippings, and notes detailing all my schedules.

In the center of the room there was only one handwritten sentence:

"If I can't protect her... no one can."

Strange, obsessed, stalker, crazy, and mad about you.