Chapter Text
“…Daiba Nana-san. Do you know of the Stage Girl, Judy Knightley?”
Her swords had felt as light as they had the previous times. Even with a ninth star gracing the stage, their edges hadn’t dulled. Even with the burden on her shoulders, they hadn’t betrayed their master in her song and dance.
“I don’t. But if you’re asking me now, she must have something to do with Hikari-chan.”
It had struck her as strange, how Hikari’s blue cape stood out from the red everyone else wore for the revues. Perhaps it had been to distinguish her status as a transfer student and a guest. But a fallen cape was still a fallen cape; be it red, blue, or some other color on the spectrum.
“Indeed. She is the Top Star at the Royal Academy of Theatrical Actors in London—an insurmountable wall to Kagura Hikari. A Stage Girl whose brilliance could outshine even yours.”
Another Top Star. So there were other schools that held revues of their own.
“…Or rather, the Daiba Nana from the first iteration.”
The giraffe’s hooves rang like gunshots in the stillness of the theater, briefly drowning out Hikari’s hitched sobs. Slowly, unhurriedly, he walked across the stage towards the two of them.
“Frankly, I am unsure of how many iterations have passed. I believe I have said this before,” the giraffe sighed, coming to a stop with a flick of his tail. His dark eyes remained as unreadable as ever—a void Nana had long since given up on trying to decipher. “This may be pointless of me to ask, but has the stage you desire changed?”
“No.” Her hands tightened around her swords. “It’s…still bright.”
“I understand.” The giraffe flicked his tail again, turning his head towards the girl kneeling nearby, shoulders trembling and breath hitching from the knowledge that she had lost her chance to be the Top Star. “Kagura Hikari-san. Do you know why it is that you lost?”
“Why is she in these revues?” Hikari demanded in lieu of an answer, eyes red and voice sore from singing in vain. “I sensed it! She doesn’t want position zero! How could I lose to… How could I lose to…someone who…!”
Her words trailed off as a sob returned, twisting into an angry cry directed more towards herself than at Nana. Hunched over and awash in the golden light of her defeat, she looked smaller than before.
Smaller than Futaba.
Smaller than Junna.
Smaller than Mahiru.
Smaller than Kaoruko.
“Maya-chan once said that a Stage Girl must see the stage holistically,” Nana answered for her, furrowing her brow at the giraffe’s uncharacteristic post-revue questions. He usually sent them on their way right after the performance. “Hikari-chan. You could only see yourself and Karen-chan. A duet or 2-person performance is all well and good, but a play like Starlight requires everyone.”
That’s why I need to protect them all. Through my loops, no one can be left out.
“When you fought me, you were already looking ahead. Just like Maya-chan, you didn’t see me until it was too late.”
Hikari’s shoulders stilled. Her long hair hid her gaze, but Nana could tell the gears were turning in her head. And while it was good to know that she was taking her words to heart, the unfortunate truth remained that it was too late to do anything about it.
Kagura Hikari lost, and Daiba Nana won.
After this, she would only have Karen, Claudine, and Maya to defeat.
Of those three, however, Maya continued to be the only one who posed any real threat. Karen could only see Hikari. Claudine could only see Maya. Their surprise at Hikari’s loss and facing her in the revues was another factor, but she couldn’t quite fault them for that. After all, she didn’t express any desire for position zero, or to reach greater heights as a performer. It wouldn’t be wrong to assume that someone like that would possess skills equal to their lack of passion for the Top Star. It wouldn’t be wrong at all.
But this stage didn’t care for assumptions and expectations of that sort. That was probably why Hikari entered this loop to begin with.
Even so, it still ended the same as it always did, Nana thought as she parried a blow from Maya. Counting to three, she sidestepped 5 centimeters to the left, just in time to avoid the thrust that would ruffle her cape but not sever its cord. Maya would then use the momentum to switch into a slash, and—there. Right on cue and brilliantly executed.
Nana parried the attack that would’ve left other Stage Girls reeling from its unexpected direction. But even someone as great as Tendou Maya had tells—little signs and quirks that Nana had long since learned to read.
There was predictability in perfection. Claudine suffered the same pitfalls, albeit to a lesser extent.
The refrain would come in 5 seconds. Even without her looping, Nana could tell from the pattern in the song’s measures and the overall melody. The chords here in this particular key would require it if one were to stick to the rules, and Maya was a stickler for this one. She switched up her revue song with every repeat, but even the top of their class had her share of favorites.
And Nana knew them by heart.
Maya would sing the refrain, and the stage would change accordingly. To shift the performance into her favor instead of gaping like a stunned fish, Nana would need to do one simple thing. Something that anyone could do, but would normally be too floored by Maya’s brilliance to do so.
“Such small things can turn the tide. The tone of a song could change completely, simply by shifting the key,” the giraffe’s voice sounded from the edge of the stage as the set pieces returned to their hidden positions. “Or turning the refrain into a duet.”
She tapped her blade against the worn tape of position zero.
“Congratulations, Daiba Nana-san.”
Sometimes there were small changes to the loops. Slight differences in the order of events, but they all reached the same ending.
“This is…how serious you are?”
Tendou Maya lost. Daiba Nana won.
“Did something happen that changed you?” Maya demanded, and there was the familiar hint of frustration in her voice. “What happened to you?”
They were the same lines, so she gave the same answer.
“It was bright. Was it bright for you?” You were bright. All of you were so very bright. You made me want to do everything I could to not lose you.
And like always, Maya understood. It was too late, but she understood nonetheless. Nana could appreciate that—even if this timeline would be coming to an end soon, it was a small comfort knowing that someone recognized her intentions in the end.
“You would go that far—”
And like always, the closing curtain would cut her off. But from those few words alone, uttered in anger and frustration, she knew that Maya would never approve of her wish. That was fine. She wouldn’t be Tendou Maya otherwise.
The giraffe clopped his way over to her, unhurried like always. “No performance is ever quite the same—not even for repeats. A Stage Girl can breathe life to even her encores. So how exciting would it be, then, to see her bring life to a dead stage?”
“You’re unsatisfied.”
“You understand.”
She did. Eating the same food would eventually lose its charm, no matter how delicious it had been at the start. Wearing the same outfit every day, no matter how comfortable, would eventually wear and tear and fade. So repeating like this was tiring, yes. Winning against everyone like this was unsatisfying. Forgetting her like this with every reset was painful.
But if the alternative was losing them to their own failures, then she would endure it.
“You are one worthy of being the Top Star. Dead though this stage may be, that fact does not change,” the giraffe said, turning his gaze up towards the lights. “To the one who dances among the heavens, you have the honor of gracing any stage with your brilliance. As the Top Star, you possess the right to choose.”
If their Starlight was a dead stage, then Daiba Nana would gladly become its grave keeper.
“…Before. You asked about Judy Knightley before.” Nana narrowed her eyes as the harsh yellow lights of the stage gave way to a soft white. “Why?”
The tiara glinted at the giraffe’s feet, seemingly inlaid with more gems than the last time she had seen it. “I said that she was an insurmountable wall—a wall that Kagura Hikari dashed her hopes and dreams against. I would suggest keeping that in mind when you return.”
The giraffe kicked the tiara over to her, sliding it across the stage until it came to a stop against her blade, still resting on position zero. No…it wasn’t her imagination. She hadn’t paid much attention before in the other loops, but there were definitely more gems than the first time she had been crowned with it. Far more.
“Until we meet again, Daiba Nana-san. Be sure to dazzle us with your next performance.”
And her world turned white with the brilliance of its many stars.
A part of her had expected this, what with the giraffe’s parting words. It didn’t make the encounter any less awkward or stressful, but at least she had experience from the first time it had happened to mirror the surprise her classmates shared. The slight tilt of curiosity to her head may be fake, but the friendly smile on her lips was at least somewhat genuine.
“I’ll be in your care,” Kagura Hikari addressed the class, bowing perfectly as if she had never left Japan and spent all those years abroad. From her voice to her posture, her demeanor seemed less cold and standoffish than before, too—not warm, exactly, but more approachable than the first time around. Just a bit.
Yet another irregular loop, Nana thought, fingers digging into the hard surface of her desk as Hikari’s gaze swept over the room at Karen’s surprised outburst.
Her eyes didn’t linger on Karen, however.
She knows. Nana’s fingers dug deeper as she feigned a look of mild confusion at Hikari’s piercing stare. Discomfort settled at the base of her spine. She knows about me. She remembers the previous loop.
Hikari’s gaze had been softer than the first time, but now they hardened into the same determined glare from their revue. Her blue eyes boiled with unmistakable recognition; the animosity palpable enough for even the teacher to falter a little with her announcements. Already a few of their classmates had glanced behind to find whoever it was that had caught the transfer student’s attention.
“Nana, do you know her?” Junna leaned over to ask—a question that Claudine should’ve directed to Karen not long from now.
“I don’t.”
It was a half-truth, at least. She knew of her food preferences and her love for Mr. White. She knew that she had no qualms in spending all of her allowance on trips to various aquariums, or breaking curfew. She knew that Hikari must have used a much longer weapon in the past, for her unfamiliarity with her dagger was still evident by the time she faced Nana. But despite that unfamiliarity, she was still able to defeat Claudine.
She didn’t know what Hikari went through in England. She didn’t know why her eyes had seemed so dead during practices, or why the brilliance she possessed belied what the perfection in her forms would’ve otherwise suggested. She didn’t know why or how some of that brilliance had returned by the time they fought.
Not that it had changed the outcome.
“I’ll go on ahead,” Nana said after homeroom was over, quickly gathering her things. Karen’s enthusiasm would deter Hikari, but not for long. Hikari was already familiar with the school’s layout and thus, rendered any tour meaningless. “I have to speak with the program’s advisor.”
“Are you sure it can’t wait until later?” Junna asked, furrowing her brow. “You might not make it back in time before dance lessons start.”
“I’ll be fine.”
The lessons had been more or less the same over the years. Decades. Unless she made a request to the instructor, there was nothing more those lessons could teach her. Her tardiness would certainly make Maya frown in disapproval, but everyone would be focused on Hikari, anyway.
Unless she comes after me.
A confrontation would happen eventually, that much was certain. But until then, Nana was content to put things off for as long as possible. Hikari’s piercing gaze during homeroom—and now burning into her back as she slipped out of the classroom and hurried down the halls—was motivation enough.
She knew, of course, that it wouldn’t last long. If things progressed as they did in the previous loop, Karen would do all she could to integrate Hikari into their life at Seisho and the dorms. Their friends would be curious about Karen’s childhood friend, and if Nana was the only one to act distant, well…there was a reason she had offered Hikari that pudding, after all.
What can I do? Transferring to class B would make me ineligible for a role in Starlight, and I’d rather not separate from my friends. But if I help class B out like I did before, my schedule would grow busier. Her stomach turned as her mind raced to find the best way to avoid Hikari while keeping her friends’ suspicions down. Although…I wouldn’t put it past Hikari-chan to track me down anyway, even if I’m helping class B. The same would apply for transferring.
If this was what that giraffe wanted, then Kagura Hikari was an inevitability.
And that was terrifying.
“…The staff room isn’t that way.”
If Junna were here, she’d say something like, “speak of the Devil and he shall appear.” But Junna wasn’t here, and saying such a thing aloud could make things worse. Purposefully relaxing the tense set to her shoulders and donning a careful smile, Nana turned around to face the girl who had tailed her.
Or girls, rather.
“Hikari-chan, wait up!” Karen called from further down the hall, running towards the two of them with Mahiru close behind her. In Mahiru’s hand was Hikari’s suitcase. “Don’t leave us behind!”
“Did you sprint after me?” Nana quietly asked, maintaining her smile.
“If I’m to catch up to you, I should do no less,” Hikari readily answered, eyes narrowed into the same glare from the classroom.
“An insurmountable wall to Kagura Hikari,” the giraffe’s words rang in her mind. She hadn’t fully understood the significance of someone like Judy Knightley before, but now the pieces began to slot into place. Not that it was reassuring to know she had become Hikari’s new goal for the time being.
“Hikari-chan, what did you ask Hoshimi-san? You nearly knocked her over when you ran out of the classroom!” Karen huffed as she and Mahiru caught up to them. “You shouldn’t— Banana? Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for the dance lesson?”
Her smile had grown strained, but it hadn’t faltered. Not yet. “I was going to meet with the program advisor.”
“That’s a lie. She was going to skip class.”
A tiny crack appeared, but not yet. Hikari definitely wasn’t going to make this easy for her.
“Eh?! Banana was?!”
“Karen-chan, you know that’s not true,” Mahiru piped up, looking back and forth between everyone; eyebrows knitting together in worry. “Banana-chan wouldn’t skip class. At least…not without reason, I don’t think…”
You’re so sweet, Mahiru-chan. For such a gentle girl, the strength behind her mace was still surprising, even after all these years.
“I can think of a compelling reason.” Hikari’s hands curled into fists at her sides as she took a step towards Nana. “Daiba-san. We need to talk.”
She had wondered more than once what would happen if the other girls remembered her resets. A rough plan had been made for each one, but given the near-impossibility of it happening, Nana hadn’t developed her script any further than that. Needless to say, a plan for Hikari hadn’t been made, but she and Maya should be similar enough…
“K-Kagura-san, maybe it can wait until after you’re settled in…?” Mahiru asked before the words could leave Nana’s throat, anxiously wringing her hands. Even Karen was frowning at the two of them, confused by the sudden tension.
“Hikari-chan…? Do you two…know each other?”
Only now did Nana’s smile waver and fall at the growing frustration in Hikari’s eyes, dulling the animosity in her glare. From this angle, Mahiru and Karen couldn’t see the tears threatening to form in them.
Having to deal with a Hikari who could remember everything was terrifying, yes, but Nana wasn’t about to allow their friends to see her break down. Something like that would only invite questions neither of them were prepared to answer at the moment.
“Karen-chan, Mahiru-chan, can you give us some privacy for a little bit?” Nana quietly asked, turning to look at them with a slight—albeit strained—smile. “This shouldn’t take long. Hopefully.”
Karen protested, of course, but Mahiru came to the rescue. It was all too obvious how enamored she was with Karen, even without Nana’s prior knowledge from the loops. And with someone like Hikari entering the scene and stealing Karen’s attention, Mahiru would be the least likely among their friend group to get in the way of their chat.
If something like this can be called a ‘chat’. Nana sighed as she watched them retreat at a distance, preparing her roughshod script for Maya in her mind. That script, however, was promptly discarded at Hikari’s quiet sniffle.
“Hikari-chan, would you like us to move somewhere else?” Nana asked, fishing out her handkerchief from her pocket and offering it to her. She almost expected her to smack her hand away, but Hikari merely shook her head.
“I’m not… I’m not letting you run away.”
“Of course you won’t.” I wouldn’t expect someone who could beat Kuro-chan to do so, anyway.
Hikari took another step forward, fists trembling at her sides. She opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again, brow furrowing as she repeated the cycle a few more times. If not for her serious gaze and the fact that this entire situation had veered off-script, Nana might have laughed at how silly it looked.
Finally, voice thick with something she couldn’t quite place, Hikari asked, “Why did you give me a third chance?”
Of all the questions she had been expecting, this was definitely not one of them. It was Nana’s turn to search for the right words, but even then they still fell short. “What do you mean by ‘third chance?’”
“Didn’t that giraffe tell you? He told you about Judy, so…he must have told you the rest.”
“He implied that you took part in a revue in England and lost. You don’t mean to say…” Nana trailed off with a frown, eyebrows knitting together. The pieces that had at first seemed strange now began to form a more coherent whole.
“I lost my brilliance. Everyone who participated did,” Hikari said, bitterness laced in every word. “I didn’t know that was the price for granting the Top Star’s wish.”
“Why are you doing this for me?” Nana had asked, long ago. The giraffe had answered, but evidently there was more to it than that. She should’ve known there would be a catch.
“But I don’t understand! Why have we reset to a few months ago? How is it that everyone still has their brilliance? They should’ve lost it when you won!” With every sentence, Hikari took a step forward, forcing Nana to take a step back. “I… I should’ve lost it. Again. So why? Why are you doing this? What wish did you make?”
Nana’s back hit the wall. Hikari’s eyes, watery with frustration, held one last question. She was perceptive, as all who had reached second place should be. Perhaps Nana could provide a better answer than the one the giraffe had given her.
“The 99th Seisho Festival,” she began, quietly, “our first performance of Starlight. Everyone shone so brightly then—I wanted that happiness to last, more than anything. Class A, class B; it didn’t matter. I wanted to protect them all.”
Naruse. Osaka. Everything had begun with them.
“So I wished to return to that stage. And for the past 60 repeats, I’ve protected everyone.”
Nana’s fingers tingled from revealing the truth after so long, but she kept her gaze steady as Hikari’s eyes widened in shock. That was expected—in Hikari’s view, she had looped back to the day of her transfer, after all. Knowing that Nana had willingly done this 60 times now would be a surprise to anyone.
Hikari’s shocked features pulled into a glower, blinking her frustrated tears away. This was more like Maya. Maya, she could handle.
“’Protected everyone’…? You’ve been using their brilliance all that time?!” Hikari’s hands shot forward, grabbing at the front of Nana’s school jacket and roughly tugging her down to eye level. “That makes you no different than the giraffe!”
“And what does that make you? You came here for a reason, didn’t you?” Nana calmly replied in turn. There was a strange sort of comfort, knowing that Hikari’s response was close to what she had predicted for Maya’s. “I may not have known the truth, but you did. Are you really going to sacrifice everyone’s brilliance in order to keep your promise with Karen-chan?”
Hikari flinched, barely there and quick as can be, but Nana hadn’t spent 60 loops observing Maya’s movements for nothing. There was always that chance; always that possibility Maya could turn the tide and put an end to her loops. Predicting her had become easier with time, but the fear still remained and guided her gaze.
Claudine had watched her, eager to improve her skills as a stage girl.
Nana had watched her, eager to maintain the gap in their abilities.
…But with a proper blade and a broader mind, she could see Hikari tenaciously closing in on that gap. Just as Maya had tried to do in the loops where Nana had failed to turn her attentions towards Claudine.
“I… I’ll find a way.”
“A way to what?” Nana pressed. Hikari’s fingers had slackened, so it was easy tugging herself out of her grasp and standing back up to her full height. “With my loops, everyone is protected. No one loses their brilliance; no one despairs and leaves the stage. Can you say that whatever you had in mind can do the same?”
Hikari averted her gaze, hands lowering to her sides and curling into trembling fists.
“If you find a better way, then feel free to defeat me,” Nana muttered, straightening her school jacket back into place. “But until then, your fixation blinds you.”
You can only run so far, a part of her mind wearily whispered. Her insides felt older than her outsides—surely one day she’ll slip up; the weight of the years dulling her song and blades. If, at least, she lost to someone whose wish could still keep everyone near, then…
“…And yours doesn’t?”
Nana stilled at Hikari’s angry hiss. Ice crept up her spine at the frosty glare thrown her way, Hikari’s eyes silently promising that she wouldn’t hold back this time either.
“This time, I won’t lose to you,” was what they said.
“Hikari-chan! Banana!” Karen’s voice cut between them, worry coating their names. “You shouldn’t fight!”
Nana turned her head to see Karen rushing over to them, waving her hands frantically. Mahiru followed, frantic as well and reprising their interruption from earlier. She had almost forgotten they were only further down the hallway.
“I’m sorry, Banana-chan, but Karen-chan wouldn’t listen!”
“I don’t know what’s going on, but surely you two can talk it out instead, right?” Karen asked at almost the same time, stopping beside them. “Right? Hikari-chan? Banana?”
Unfortunately, any further discussion on this would surely be through a revue between them.
“No. We’re done here,” Hikari curtly said, breezing past her to take her suitcase from Mahiru. She didn’t look back once as she walked away, with Karen hurrying after her and calling her name. Mahiru alone hesitated, brow furrowed in concern, but Nana shook her head.
“It’s fine. Just a disagreement, that’s all.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” She managed a slight smile, waving her off. “You should catch up to them and make sure they don’t get into trouble. Especially Karen-chan.”
Mahiru frowned, not entirely convinced, but left to go chase after the two of them anyway. It was only after she had vanished around the corner that Nana allowed her smile to fall.
It had hurt. Just a little.
Any possible friendship with Hikari had been thrown out the window as soon as she remembered the previous loop. Nana had known that, and yet there had still been that slim chance they could get along in spite of the truth—not as close as the others in their dorm, of course, but perhaps acquaintances like the rest of their class. They had spent months together in some form, after all.
However, those who could reach the Top Star would be uncompromising in their goals. As the only one who had remained standing, crowned upon the stage of fate, Nana understood that very well. Just as she would fight to protect everyone in her loops, Maya would fight to reach the greatest heights possible as a Stage Girl. Hikari would fight to keep her promise to Karen and perform Starlight.
She had known this would happen, but that didn’t stop it from hurting all the same.
“It certainly won’t be like the previous loop,” Nana muttered, finally walking away.
As expected, Hikari threw herself wholly into training and her studies. She paid little attention to everything else—much to Karen’s worry and, by extension, Mahiru’s worry for Karen—focusing instead on her goal to defeat Nana. Eventually even Claudine couldn’t keep up with her requests to train, and called Maya mad for continuing to indulge her.
Hikari’s withering glances towards Nana hadn’t gone unnoticed, either. It had been some time since the last, but Maya’s gaze sought Nana’s once more.
Junna, Karen, Mahiru, Claudine… All of them had approached her out of concern, hoping to smooth over the unspoken tension that had their dorm tiptoeing around the two of them. Nana had reassured them, diverting their attention with sweets and meals and kind words, but even that couldn’t fully ease their concerns.
This loop had fallen apart so quickly with Hikari’s arrival. It was almost amazing how sharply it had veered off-script when comparing to the previous loop. But even though the events leading up to this point may have been different from before, the outcome remained the same.
Hikari’s fallen cape had scarcely touched the floor before she grabbed Nana’s wrist, eyes flashing with a now-familiar frustration. “I trained and trained, and studied! What did I do wrong? You said I could only see Karen, but…surely there was something else?”
She had certainly improved from last time, but it wasn’t enough.
“Exhaustion. That was the main reason,” Nana quietly replied, relaxing her shoulders and straightening up to her full height. Even with that, Hikari still held her wrist tightly. “You wore yourself out trying to reach me.”
Hikari blinked once. Twice. Thrice. “I… I didn’t notice.”
“Of course you didn’t—you could only see me.” Nana tugged her hand out of Hikari’s now-slackened grasp. “I told Karen-chan to tell you to rest.”
“She always—!” Hikari’s shoulders drooped as her hands fell to her sides. Realization filled her stricken gaze, now aimed at the worn tape of position zero. “She always…said that.”
They may be at odds with each other, but there was no need to be cruel. Nana’s gaze softened as she lowered her swords. “Hikari-chan. While it wasn’t good to only see Karen-chan, you didn’t need to disregard her words entirely. Even if you think it’s for her own good.”
Nana tapped her blade against position zero.
“The stage is so much bigger than just yourself. Or Karen-chan. Or me.”
There was a certain loneliness at the top. The acute awareness of the difference in abilities; the pressure to succeed and remain ahead; the burden to carry upon one’s shoulders like Atlas did the world. But only from the top could one see everything in its entirety.
The closing curtain cut off Hikari’s heated reply. The giraffe, silent throughout their revue, finally clopped forward onto the stage.
“Interesting, isn’t it?” he remarked, idly swishing his tail. “How desperately the dead seek the living.”
Nana frowned, leveling one of her swords at him. “You won’t be satisfied with just this, will you?”
“You understand.”
“Of course. My wish hasn’t changed, which means your desire for a more interesting stage hasn’t, either.” She tightened her grip around the hilt, hardening her features. “You’re sending her back with me again…aren’t you?”
The giraffe chuckled. “Kagura Hikari introduces a new element to your stage of fate. Her tenacity could very well enable you to change as well, Daiba Nana-san. And what audience wouldn’t want to see their lead evolve and further her own stage?”
You’re thinking of the conflict she brings to my stages. It doesn’t have to be me who wins—it could be Maya-chan, Kuro-chan, or anyone else.
Nana bit back the words that threatened to spill, lowering her sword. “So you say.”
“Is it not the truth?”
“What you’re doing is hardly for my sake.”
He blinked slowly. “So you do understand.”
She did. But she couldn’t stop now—not after all this time. Not if the others would lose their brilliance for the sake of Hikari or Maya’s wish.
Karen had dropped ranks earlier than before. Claudine still lost as per usual, albeit in a much shorter time.
A sense of urgency gripped her as she struck them all down, knowing that Hikari would join her for the next loop. And the one after that, most likely. Perhaps Nana could still turn the tables and adjust her wish.
…No. My wish hadn’t changed at all, and yet that giraffe still brought her in. Whatever I say, however I word it, he’ll find a way to keep her here if it means a more interesting performance.
“Looking away? How confident of you!” Maya shouted during their revue an hour later, thrusting her blade forward with a grin and jolting Nana out of her thoughts. She was always so lively in their song and dance together, caught up in the thrill of the challenge. Did she see her as an insurmountable wall, as well…?
Nana dodged with ease and deflected the next swipe. Two steps forward. One step back. Block. Counter. Harmonize for this measure. Match the sweep of Maya’s arm, and— There.
Maya grunted as Nana locked her blade with her swords, holding it briefly in place. No vocals would be needed for this section, which meant they could freely talk.
“What do you think of Hikari-chan?” Nana asked, softly.
“You would think of someone else during our revue?” Maya asked in return. She disengaged and swiped again, her grin shifting into a displeased frown. “If you won’t take this seriously, then—”
“I’m always serious with you on this stage, Maya-chan.”
The loops may have helped, but Maya’s ability to adapt still kept Nana watchful for variations in her tells. Rehearsed over the decades their dance may be—with Maya struggling to close the gap in a routine she did not know—there was always that off chance. Especially in loops where Maya’s gaze found hers.
Nana surged forward, one attack after the other, pushing Maya back. Every answering thrust was deflected; every slash parried. Sparks danced along their blades as the stage shifted beneath them and the set pieces rose to match the song their swords weaved. The music swelled, and—
Clang!
Maya’s rapier flew out of her hand, clattering down the steps. Nana dropped one of her swords in that same breath, using that free arm to curl around Maya’s waist and spin them around once, dipping her low.
“…So I ask you again, Maya-chan,” Nana murmured as the music ended, resting her remaining blade against the golden pin holding Maya’s cape together. “What do you think of her?”
In spite of the inevitable loss, Maya kept her composure. A brief widening of her eyes was all she allowed herself before schooling her features back into a stern look. “That girl’s eyes were dead. I saw no brilliance in them, despite her ability. It was…unsettling.”
“Of course.” Hikari-chan is a dead Stage Girl, after all.
“But they changed, just a little, with you. The demon that possessed her and drove her…that was you, wasn’t it?” Maya’s frown deepened, the frustration in her gaze equally for Nana and herself. “To think that she would see you before I did.”
“I would’ve preferred if she hadn’t.”
A sharp flick of her wrist sent the pin flying away and Maya’s cape falling to the floor. Nana eased them both back to a stand, stepping away as Maya smoothed out her jacket. She hid it well, but even the top of their class wasn’t above being flustered.
“So this is how serious you are,” Maya quietly said as Nana turned her back on her to retrieve her other sword. “…Did something happen that changed you? What happened to you?”
The same lines. Even though Nana had initiated some changes herself in their revue, Maya still asked on cue. It was…oddly comforting, knowing that something remained the same, here at the end.
Nana’s hand wrapped around the hilt, lips tugging into a faint, bittersweet smile. If Maya alone had stuck to her script in the end, then perhaps she should give a proper answer.
“You were all so bright, that first year we performed Starlight.”
She stood up as the lights shifted to her signature yellow; the spotlight shining upon position zero a harsh white in comparison. Her footsteps echoed loudly as she moved to take her place once more.
“I wanted that feeling to last. I wanted to keep everyone from being hurt and leaving the stage,” Nana continued, stopping before the worn tape. “Our Starlight… I can’t reach it again if even one of you is missing.”
With the memories flashing through her mind, she tapped her blade against position zero.
“The giraffe promised I could have a repeat performance. Knowing that, I couldn’t just sit back.”
Nana could see him now, silently watching from the seats. The faintest hint of amusement in his dark eyes grew as footsteps sounded behind her, sharp and quick.
“Who was it that left?” Maya demanded.
“Naruse and Osaka.”
“They aren’t—”
“I know. But I still saw their efforts. Did you?”
Maya’s footsteps quickened even more in anger. “You would go that far for th—”
She felt something brush at her cape—Maya’s hand, perhaps—before the closing curtain swept across the stage to separate them. Darkness enveloped the theater for a moment before a white light slowly came to life, bathing the stage as the curtain parted. A shadow fell over her, and Nana turned around to see the giraffe standing upstage.
“Congratulations yet again, Daiba Nana-san,” he said, dipping his head in a brief bow.
To his right was the tree from that other loop, with Hikari’s blue cape hanging from the lowest branch. A few branches above that hung a black cap trimmed with gold. Above even that, tied to one of the uppermost branches, was a green ribbon.
Nana frowned at the sight, fighting down the unease creeping down her spine to settle in her stomach. “Judy Knightley. If she became the Top Star at Hikari-chan’s school, what did she wish for?”
The giraffe swished his tail. “I’m afraid I can’t divulge that. The wishes of other Top Stars are confidential, after all.”
“Can’t…or won’t?”
“How cheeky you’ve become, Daiba Nana-san. But I understand.” He blinked slowly, tilting his head slightly. “Does this upset you that much?”
Nana’s hands tightened around her swords, trembling a little as she stormed towards him. “Of course it does! You’re using everyone’s brilliance to grant my wish—how can anyone not be upset by that?”
“So you say. Even so, your wish still hasn’t changed, has it?” She could see the faint amusement from before dancing within the dark void of his eyes—it was the only thing she could ever discern from him. “That stage is still too bright, too dazzling. But the greed of a Top Star… I understand it.”
Greed? Yes, perhaps she was being greedy all this time. Eager to keep everyone close and safe; to protect them from the pain of moving on. A part of her hated that she would still go along with this, but if the alternative was still losing them…
The tiara glinted at the giraffe’s hooves once more, its gems glittering with the proof of her greed. Nana slowed to a stop, counting them.
“This is unprecedented, you know,” the giraffe murmured, kicking the tiara over to where it slid to a stop against her boots. “I would say you’re a little over halfway.”
60 gems before. 61 now.
“How terrifying you are, Daiba Nana-san. I could only see what was in front of me, but for you to grasp the greater stage of destiny…” He raised his head towards the stage lights once again. “I can’t predict what the stars have in mind. This greed, this hubris… How wonderful! How dazzling!”
The set pieces around them whined and rumbled as they moved to match his passionate rambling, forming the familiar set for Starlight. However, the tower extended further than their play’s; its apex piercing into the darkness above where even the lights could not reach.
“Are you satisfied, then? Would you consider leaving Hikari-chan out of this?” Nana asked once the pieces had stilled, frown deepening at the sudden fervor in his words. It had been a while since his last bout of excitement.
The giraffe slowly turned his gaze back towards her, ears flicking. “That remains to be seen. She shares a promise that has been accepted by the stars, after all. But at the very least…no doubt we shall meet again, Daiba Nana-san.”
The lights grew in intensity, blinding her with their brilliance and signaling the end of this loop.
“I hope you continue to dazzle us on this stage of dreams.”
A part of her had still hoped. Foolishly. Naively. Thoughtlessly. And although she had an entire year to prepare for this frightening eventuality, Nana couldn’t bring herself to sabotage anything. Hikari may be terrifying, yes, but Nana hadn’t fallen so low as to rob her of her school life before it could begin.
“I’ll be in your care,” Kagura Hikari addressed the class for the third time. Her voice was still even and distant, carrying with it a faint weariness Nana knew all too well. That weariness vanished as soon as her eyes found Nana’s, giving way to a now-familiar frustration.
“…And I will defeat you,” Hikari concluded, gaze locked onto hers.
Once again, the animosity she radiated was enough to startle even the teacher. Around the room, a few of their classmates bristled at the challenge while others turned their heads, searching for whoever it was that had caught the transfer student’s attention. Karen stood up to make her outburst, and only then did Hikari’s gaze waver away.
“Nana, do you know her?” Junna leaned over to ask, same as before.
Yes.
“No,” Nana said with a shake of her head, feigning a look of confusion. “Maybe she was at the performance festival?”
“She’s from England, though.”
Thankfully, the teacher’s call for everyone to quiet down saved her from having to respond. But even though everyone calmed down—if Hikari glaring daggers at her from her new seat in the back could be considered calm—the damage was already done.
Maya’s gaze had found hers. By the time the rest of the announcements were over, so had Claudine’s.
Nana’s fingers curled against the surface of her desk; palms clammy from the numerous glances her way. Hikari-chan, couldn’t you have read the room a little? This atmosphere…!
She could try to avoid Hikari after homeroom again, or she could try to stick to her usual script from the other loop. But given Hikari’s tenacity and her memories of the loops so far, she would almost certainly derail any attempt Nana could make to maintain the status quo. Her introduction was already proof enough of her willingness to play by ear.
Hikari made the decision for her, cornering her at her desk the moment homeroom ended.
“Be my partner for the next class,” she all but commanded. Behind Hikari, Junna nearly dropped her school bag in surprise. A few of their classmates nearby also turned to look, stopping on their way out of the classroom.
“Hikari-chan…was it?” Nana began, endeavoring to maintain her façade of ignorance. “I’m sure there are others—”
“You said I pushed myself too far, so just tell me when I do.”
Hikari-chan, think of those around you…! Nana tried not to sigh, managing a weak smile in its place. “Why not ask Maya-chan instead? Have you heard of her? She’s the top of our class, you know.”
And she’s over there in the doorway, trying not to make it obvious she’s eavesdropping.
Hikari tilted her head to the side, brow furrowing slightly in mild confusion. “If I can defeat you, then it stands to reason that I can defeat her. There’s no reason that I should choose her over you.”
Perhaps she had been naïve, thinking that the previous loop was the worst Hikari could do to throw her script out the window.
“Hikari-chan, everyone is going to wonder about us if this keeps up,” Nana sighed, finally dropping all pretense. With this many ears, the damage was irreversible—Hikari might as well have proclaimed they were time looping to the whole class.
“Does it matter? They won’t remember the next time we repeat.”
Ah.
“’Next time’?” Junna asked at the same moment Karen popped up to shout, “Hikari-chan, do you know Banana?!”
“What is this about not choosing Tendou Maya?”
“Oh, my~ Tendou-han, did you hear that? The transfer student doesn’t seem to think you’re worth it~”
“By that logic, she doesn’t think much of you either, Hanayagi-san.”
…It had only been 10 minutes into this loop with Hikari’s arrival.
And it had only taken 10 minutes for everything to fall apart.
A storm of unease stirred in Nana’s stomach as not-so-hushed whispers flew around the classroom; her heart beating a loud rhythm in her ears. What do I do now? How do I fix this? Can I fix this? Will I still be able to win the revues?
But amidst the flurry of questions, there was one that stuck out to her the most.
“You said ‘next time,’” Nana began, and it was her turn to furrow her brow in confusion. She pointedly ignored Junna and Karen’s ongoing questions in the background. “Isn’t it too soon to give up?”
Not that she would mind, but given Hikari’s past behavior, it seemed strange.
Hikari crossed her arms. “I didn’t say I would give up. But I’ve conceded that I need to do more in order to surpass you. I’ll use this loop to do just that.”
…Eh?
A smile tugged at Hikari’s lips, barely there and faint as can be.
“You’ve given me the perfect environment to train without consequence. Why shouldn’t I use it?”