Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cannon fodder.

There will be about 100 other people competing. And maybe Adachi has made it this far — maybe he'll be the 101 out of 101 — but there's not a chance he's going to end up going that far beyond that. The same two words repeat in his head like a mantra: cannon fodder.

His fingers curl, clutching the fabric of his pants as he waits for his name to be called; he can barely dance, and maybe his high karaoke score is almost impressive, but that won't be enough. Someone else is going to be this season's star. He almost wants to curse — stupid Rokkaku from work talking about the audition he heard about from some college friend of his, stupid drunk "maybe it won't hurt to sign up" decision — but he's too nervous to speak; as he waits for his name to be called (curse the alphabet, he decides to add, and the fact that he had to be born an Adachi) in the small, poorly-lit room, all he can think of is how everything is going to end before it's even started.

Rokkaku had tried his best to help Adachi with the dance he'd had to learn, but in this moment, he's sure his two left feet are going to screw him out of... whatever this fever dream of an audition is. He wonders if there are any offices near here, at least — maybe he can work in entertainment, somehow, if not as an entertainer.

That's probably as close as he's going to get.

There are four other guys ahead of him, at least; he gets some idea of how this round of the auditions will go, even if he's more or less accepted that he won't get any further than this. You walk up; you introduce yourself to the judges (not the famous, TV ones he remembers from last season; they might as well be faceless, mob characters at the very best, terrifying eyes knowing what will make good TV flashing behind shiny glasses); you sing, you dance, and then, you sit back down. As Abe Kaoru sits back down next to Adachi, and as those judges call his name, he reluctantly gets up, legs shaking.

He's given a microphone; he clutches it tightly, as if it'll save him from this situation, somehow, eyes falling to the ground. "I-I'm Adachi Kiyoshi, 24 years old, from Tokyo," he mumbles.

"Can you speak up?" one of the judges asks.

This is already going so, so well, Adachi thinks. "Adachi Kiyoshi, 24 years old, from Tokyo," he repeats, a little bit louder this time.

"And your specialty is... vocals?" another one of the judges asks.

"Y-yes." He's... an okay singer, in his own opinion; his karaoke scores are usually high, anyway. (It was one such score that had convinced Rokkaku to convince Adachi, in turn, to sign up for this show, anyway.)

"Well, let's hear it."

Adachi clutches the microphone even closer, shutting his eyes tightly. It's basically karaoke, he tells himself. You've done karaoke before. You're alone in the booth, it's just you, and it's just karaoke.

The song — an older Dreams Come True song, with bittersweet lyrics, the one his score is always the highest on — starts playing from one of the speakers; he starts out shaky, but he can sing. At the very least, it's something he's physically capable of doing. It isn't like the world melts away, or anything — the tiny voice in his brain that he hates more than anything won't let Adachi forget where and what this is — but, by the grace of some miracle, he gets through the song without stuttering, messing up the words, or going off-key. "Thank you," he mumbles, with a small bow, when it's over.

The judges talk amongst themselves for a moment — what, are they not going to make me dance? All that practice for nothing, Adachi thinks — and, after what may be milliseconds or thousands of years, nod. "Thank you. Please sit back down."

A sinking feeling hits Adachi's stomach. That lack of feedback... can't be a good sign; they wouldn't stop him if they actually wanted him. Still, he properly walks back to his seat, gratefully for the fact that his bangs are almost long enough to get into his eyes; they can help hide the gloomy expression in them.

Adachi barely pays attention to the rest of the auditions — he'll just make himself feel even worse if he compares himself to those guys, he knows. There are some singers who are certainly better than he is, the sounds of steady, rhythmic footsteps from dancers, some rap that's clever and makes him wonder if he could ever come up with lines like those, but nothing that inspires many more thoughts in him.

"...Alright, next, Kurosawa Yuichi," calls out the next judge. "The last one for today, huh..."

There's the sound of this Kurosawa Yuichi standing up. His tone is far more confident than anyone else's has been, especially Adachi's; it makes Adachi's head lift up, just a little, to watch this person. "I'm Kurosawa Yuichi, 25 years old, from Gunma," he introduces, though there's not a shred of dialect in his voice whatsoever. "My specialty is dance, but I aim to be a performer who can be relied on for anything."

The judges nod. "Let's see what you have to offer, then."

The sound of a K-pop song that Adachi isn't familiar with plays over the speakers, and it becomes so obvious that Adachi almost wants to laugh: somebody like this Kurosawa Yuichi, Adachi thinks, is a star.

It's clear he's naturally talented, but even in an audition like this, it's obvious that he's worked hard, too; there's an intention behind every movement, right up to the tips of his fingers, that maybe can't be taught, but the way he moves is so precise that it can't be all that he has going for him. His face is handsome — if this season is like the previous ones, Kurosawa will shoot to the top of the visual rankings, for sure — but even then, all Adachi can focus on is just how good this guy is.

The judges ask him to sing, when his dance is done; even when he's glistening with sweat (he's so bright that it's almost too dazzling), he's composed and handsome as he picks the microphone back up. The song he'd danced to was cool, there's no other word for it — but his voice, while maybe not as polished, as he sings through the beautiful, soft Back Number song, is mesmerizing nonetheless. It's short, a clearly off the cuff acapella performance that he'd maybe prepared just in case — but god, Adachi thinks, there's really a difference between people like Kurosawa and people like himself.

"...And can you give us a cool pose?" asks one of the judges.

"...A cool pose," Kurosawa repeats; his voice is so neutral that Adachi wonders if he practiced that, too. Maybe it's Adachi's imagination, but Kurosawa's eyebrows seem to furrow for just a second. (Adachi's furrow, too — this guy is that good, a once in a generation kind of talent for sure, and they make him strike a pose? They didn't make anyone else do that. What else on earth do they need to see?)

But it's gone just as fast; Kurosawa smiles and nods. "Yes, of course," he says, seeming... resigned to his destiny, almost, and immediately striking the kind of face and pose that goes viral on Twitter for weeks. Way too dazzling, Adachi confirms for himself, in his head.

"Wow," one of the judges says. "Thank you. We'll contact you all within about a week about your results," he adds. "You may now all go home."

Adachi resists the urge to sigh as he picks up his backpack and leaves to catch the train. If Adachi had just one thing of his to have going for him, he wouldn't have to worry about passing or failing (and he certainly wouldn't be convinced that he's already failed, as he is right now). It isn't that he's sure Kurosawa's had it easy, exactly, but...

But, he reiterates to himself, he's cannon fodder. There are heroes, and there are expendables; Adachi is sure what category he's in, and what category Kurosawa belongs to. And if the producers of this show aren't complete idiots, they'll know that much, too.

When Adachi gets home from work a week later, he remembers to check his mail. There's the usual — advertisements, bills, the next volume of Ragna Crimson that he'd ordered a few days ago, sweet, that's what he's been waiting for, and —

And a packet.

A thick packet.

From Toyokawa Records.

"No way," he says out loud, a little louder than he meant to. "No way, no way, no way, no way —"

But it is, and Adachi actually manages to drop all of his mail in his excitement, scaring that poor nice neighbor of his. He more or less runs back to his apartment, once he's gathered his things to the best of his ability; the rest of his mail, his manga included, gets thrown onto his bed. He opens the packet — there's no way a rejection letter would be this thick, right?

And sure enough, it's... forms. Release forms, contracts saying he can't sign with any other label for... oof, a while, alright, but it's not like someone like Adachi will have to worry about that, anyway, a handwritten profile, for some reason (he doesn't have any nicknames, everyone on earth just calls him Adachi) — but it's forms, because —

Because he passed.

Because, by some miracle, he actually passed this godforsaken audition.

It doesn't hit him until then. It all rushes to him at once — he'll be flying to Korea, he'll be there for at least a week — god, he's going to have to take the time off of work, isn't he? Should he just quit his job? No, there's no point in doing that, he won't be there past the first round, anyway. Photographs of him — tweets about him, Instagram posts about him, so many people perceiving...

Him. Adachi Kiyoshi, 24 years old, from Tokyo. He is truly just some guy who sings at karaoke... if this packet didn't have his name on it, printed about a million times, he'd think it was a mistake.

He wonders if Rokkaku's friend made it in — the way Rokkaku talks about this mysterious Minato-senpai, he's extremely passionate about dancing. He wonders if Rokkaku decided to audition, after all — he'd kind of been deliberating — and if he passed.

And Kurosawa — that Kurosawa guy. If they picked Adachi, of all people, they had to pick him too, right? They'd be stupid not to — and, hell, Adachi's guilt at taking a spot that could be Kurosawa's would more or less eat him alive.

He could, of course, mail the packet back empty — say no to all of this. He's passed, he's become one of the 101 — and that's enough, right? He wasn't supposed to get this far, and now he's this far; there was never an and then what for him to consider after. The road he's now on could end now, if he wanted it to.

...But that wouldn't be fair, either — if this Kurosawa, by some ridiculous circumstance, didn't make it, and Adachi doesn't give all he has to make up for that, well — maybe he doesn't have a lot of all to give, but he has to do his best for the sake of Kurosawa's dream, too.

(He doesn't know why he's focusing on Kurosawa so much. Maybe he's simply already been converted as a fan — that would certainly explain why he's so hooked on someone he's never even spoken to.)

Shaking all thoughts of that Kurosawa out of his mind, Adachi grabs a pen and begins filling in the forms, in earnest. He'll do this. He'll be alright. He'll probably be home and back to work by the time the first eliminations are finished filming, anyway.

Adachi arrives on the first morning of what'll probably be the strangest month of his life at a studio in downtown Tokyo. There's food provided — though he's already packed his favorite double mayo onigiri and an energy drink, just in case — and a big waiting room, packed to the brim with the other contestants. Adachi checks in with an attendant, and then waits — god, it still doesn't seem real that he actually is here. He's wearing a sweater, jeans, and some beat-up sneakers; he sure doesn't seem to fit in with the fashionable performers around him, that's certain.

And Adachi doesn't mean to, he really doesn't, but he finds himself looking around — he's searching for someone tall, with that undeniably handsome face and charisma that makes him stick out from the crowd —

"Adachi-san!"

"Huh?" Adachi says, uselessly, as he's snapped out of his reverie. He turns around — and feels strangely relieved that he actually knows someone here. "Rokkaku, you auditioned?"

"And passed, too!" Rokkaku replies, sounding as excited as he usually does at work — which is to say, his fully charged energy somehow manages to make Adachi feel tired. "My senpai's here, too. See that blond guy, over there?" he asks, pointing.

"...Oh, yeah," Adachi says, not even attempting to match Rokkaku's boundless enthusiasm, as he does catch a glimpse of a tiny man with blond hair, practicing choreography by himself off to the side. (He takes the opportunity to scan the room once more — he still can't find Kurosawa, at least not where Rokkaku's senpai is practicing.) "Good for... the both of you."

"Right? He's super serious about it. I wonder when we'll get started," Rokkaku muses. "Did you bring anything for your PR videos?"

"...PR... videos?" Adachi asks.

"That's what's we're shooting today," Rokkaku explains. "You didn't know? The 60 second videos for YouTube and stuff?"

"...I mean, I watched the last couple of seasons, but I didn't see much of the online stuff..." Adachi mutters. "Do you just... talk about yourself?"

"Pretty much! You could show off your singing, Adachi," Rokkaku suggests.

"Maybe," Adachi agrees, as the door to the waiting room swings open once more.

Adachi's breath nearly catches in his throat, as a wave of relief washes over him — there he is, that Kurosawa guy. He clearly came prepared — his outfit is impeccably cool, hair perfectly styled, sparkle visible from even where Adachi's standing; if he was someone just watching the videos online, he'd be converted, for sure.

"Do you know Kurosawa, Adachi?" Rokkaku asks, noting Adachi's gaze.

"...N-no, we just auditioned on the same day," Adachi quickly explains, averting his eyes. "I was... wondering if he... it's nothing."

"Oh," Rokkaku says. "Minato was telling me about him. He's pretty well known in the underground scene — there's no way he's not gonna be super popular," Rokkaku adds. "I already look up to him!"

I could've told you that, Adachi thinks to himself, risking another glance in Kurosawa's direction. He's off by himself, the look in his eyes completely unreadable; maybe he's scoping the room for threats, like a Terminator, or maybe he's mentally practicing for some perfect PR video...

...But Adachi can't focus on that (or, well, on him) right now. If he has to make an appeal that makes him of all people stick out in 60 seconds, somehow — and, damn the alphabet, he'll probably be one of the first people up — he has to figure out how.

He has... his lunch. There's probably nobody else in this room with any double mayo onigiri burning a hole in their bags. He can start from there.

Sure enough, Adachi's turn is early on — there's only one person, Akiyama or Akayama or something, ahead of him. He takes out his onigiri, places it on the small table in front of him, and faces the camera. "My name is Adachi Kiyoshi. I'm 24 years old, and from Tokyo. My specialty is singing, and today, my lunch is mayo onigiri."

He takes a deep breath, singing a hastily-edited version of the chorus of I Love You by Chris Hart. "I love you, I love you, I need you, forever. I want to eat onigiri, just like back then. Even if it's a wish that won't come true, do these onigiri ever reach your heart?"

Adachi smiles and nods — it's a stupid idea for a video, really, and it was thrown together so quickly that it probably shows — but hey, at least it's something. "...S-so, um, please vote for me, and... yeah!" he ends, awkwardly, putting a strained grin towards the camera and a quick peace sign as the timer runs out.

"Next!" the director calls, without any other acknowledgement in Adachi's direction at all. He shuffles offset, back to his gloomy self — though he's sure, as well, that his overall somber aura probably permeated his video, too. At least, though, he tried.

(That Kurosawa, Adachi thinks — his video is probably going to be amazing. It's not jealousy that makes him think that — just awe, unrestrained awe, that someone like him and someone like Kurosawa will really be on the same show. Together. At the same time.

It'll be... a month, if that — maybe less. At least it'll be something he can talk about when it's over, and he's inevitably dragged to a ton of after-work drinking parties.)

To: Adachi Kiyoshi

You didn't tell me the audition you took was Produce 101.

From: Adachi Kiyoshi

how'd you know i auditioned for produce 101

To: Adachi Kiyoshi

That's the gig I was telling you about the other day. The camerawork and editing gig. It's for Produce 101. What's with this onigiri song? Did you write that?

From: Adachi Kiyoshi

EH

Adachi texts Tsuge a few more times — expressions of surprise and tons of questions, mostly — and Tsuge puts his phone down. He's going over one last bit of footage before he's done for the day: the PR video of one Wataya Minato.

He's short and skinny, with bleached hair and a way-too-trendy outfit; he performs a dance that's... impressive, perhaps, and then smirks into the camera. "Wataya Minato, 21 years old, from Hiroshima. I won't lose to anyone at dancing, and I'll always deliver my best, so make sure to vote for me." He winks into the camera as the timer hits zero.

Tsuge shudders. Blond, flashy, and cocky... how irritating, Tsuge thinks. A guy like that would never get his vote, that's for sure. But, since there's nothing wrong with the footage, Tsuge sends it to his boss, resisting the urge to roll his eyes so hard that they'll start rotating on their own.

Chapter Text

The week before the show actually starts filming is as long as it is stressful.

The next day, after the PR videos are filmed, is a photoshoot; Adachi is put in a deep purple school uniform, the first he's worn since he was in high school (though the one he had back then didn't have a bowtie), and made to pose with a truly random selection of props... and then he's put in... some kind of neon basketball jersey, to pose with more weird props. Adachi does his best, he really does, but he has no idea how to show himself off, as is — having to somehow appear cute and charming while also holding a toy dinosaur in one hand and an empty soda bottle in an other is nearly impossible.

But the really tough thing is the group that Adachi is put in for the level tests. They put Rokkaku with that senpai of his, in a dancing duo; that's the only person Adachi actually knows here, squared off somewhere that Adachi himself can never reach. And Kizawa Naohiko and Funatsu Takumi seem nice, but Adachi's always been shy. It's like there's a wall that only Adachi is aware of, firmly sequestering him off from any kind of communication with his new teammates. They're all vocalists, or that's what the producers said, anyway, so at least he isn't going to have to do much dancing; that, and the Ikimonogakari song that the other two decided on is certainly pretty. Adachi practices, every single night, until his throat hurts.

Adachi, Naohiko, and Takumi — or Sakura Flavor, as is their assigned name, for reasons that Adachi doesn't quite understand — enter the set on the first day of filming. There are 101 chairs, arranged in a pyramid, just like it was on TV — and sure enough, those top 11 spots are so far away that Adachi is sure he'll never be able to reach them. The three of them bow politely — and Adachi waves gratefully at Rokkaku and Minato, who wave back from where they've decided to sit, in the mid-20s — and pick an empty spot in the 40s section to sit in. Higher than I'll probably ever end up ranking, Adachi thinks.

The room fills up with people and chatter slowly — there are high school students bursting with energy, confident guys who fill up those top 11 slots, a group of former models who are tall in addition to probably being popular, that for sure isn't fair. And they are, Adachi notes, almost all in groups; there were some people who came in solo, the last season...

"You'd have to be brave to come in by yourself," Adachi quietly muses.

"Or stupid," Naohiko adds.

Takumi raises his eyebrows. "Or both," he agrees. "I guess that's why nobody... ah, there's one person now."

Adachi turns from his groupmates to the room's enterance. Something about the fact that it's Kurosawa, by himself, isn't surprising at all. He bows politely, walks up to the supposedly cursed first place chair...

And doesn't sit down, simply looking at it silently for a moment. "What's he doing?" Naohiko asks.

"No idea," Takumi replies.

Adachi stays silent — he's in no place to judge. After all, just the idea of reaching one of those top spots is a fantasy at best, for him; all the more power to those who can actually dare to do so. He notes that Kurosawa sits down at 21st, specifically, and notices Rokkaku giving him a cheerful wave.

There aren't many groups after that, before the pyramid fills, and the judges enter the room. Some of them, Adachi recognizes from the previous seasons — that overly-dramatic vocal trainer, the mean dance coach and the nice dance coach, and that rapper that Rokkaku was telling him about — and notices Fujisaki Nozomi, former idol and current hit soloist and producer, take a seat at the table for the first time.

"She's beautiful," Takumi says dreamily. "Her eyes are like stars."

"There's no way someone like her is single, right?" adds Naohiko. "She's gotta have men lining up for her."

"I wonder," Adachi politely agrees — this speculation about the personal lives of someone famous that he'll likely be talking to at least once makes him uncomfortable, and while Fujisaki is certainly very pretty, he can't quite muster up... any real attraction to her. Maybe it's the fact that she's famous; there's a long, long distance between her and Adachi, after all.

The last person who enters the room is the show's host — they'd done away with the duo who hosted it before and hired a new comedian, Urabe Kengo, who Adachi has seen on TV before, man this is all so god damn weird. He makes some jokes, which eases the tension in the room somewhat —

And then it's real. It's actually beginning. They've all been on camera since the moment they came in, but this is the moment where everything starts to matter a thousand times more than it did a few seconds ago.

"For these first evaluations, the level test," Urabe explains, "You'll be put in a class by our judges, based on what you show us here — either F, D, C, B, or A. You can always turn things around if you're placed low, and you can always drop if you're placed highly, so make sure to give it your best!"

It's not unlike a speech a coach would give in a sports movie; there's a smattering of cheers and applause before the performances begin.

Adachi watches carefully, grateful that Sakura Flavor isn't the first group up and wishing he could get this over with already all at once. There's another group, who gets the first A of the day, and another, with the first F, and then it's Sakura Flavor's turn. The three of them are ushered backstage, where their makeup is quickly touched up and new microphones are pinned to their clothes.

Sometimes, Adachi wonders if there's a god he pissed off somewhere. He's got this personality, face, and aura, none of which help him stick out from the crowd at all — and that's not to mention his total failure of a personal life, what with how embarrassing it is to be a 24 year old who's never even been kissed (though if being an idol is the field he's in now, that's probably a benefit, not a detriment).

But at least he's got his voice — that's why he's here, right? His voice, his singing voice, the high karaoke scores that reminded Rokkaku of an audition that his dancing senpai had told him about. He's supposed to be a singer.

Maybe it's nerves — or, likely, it's the wrath of an angry god. Adachi's voice just doesn't work.

He doesn't miss his lines — he's practiced so much that the lyrics are engrained in his head — but his voice just doesn't come out the way it's supposed to. He's too quiet, too shaky — on pitch, but that doesn't matter if the judges can't hear any of it. He wants to go home, to cover himself in several blankets and do some serious moping, but he's past the point of no return.

Adachi accepts his F with a tight, small nod. There's no use getting angry about what he knows in his heart he deserves, even as Takumi and Naohiko celebrate their mutual Bs. Sakura Flavor is shuffled back to their seats.

There are only a couple other groups that Adachi ends up paying attention to, as he resists the urge to shake his bangs into his eyes and block himself off from the world. Rokkaku and his senpai certainly do well — the cute, energetic song they dance to fits them like a glove. Rokkaku's put into B, and his senpai in A.

And, of course, there's Kurosawa.

"I've heard about him," says the guy sitting on Adachi's left, in a whisper that's just loud enough that the cameras can probably pick up on it. "He was a backdancer for that K-pop group, right?"

"And in a few underground groups," the guy's partner confirms. "He's supposed to be this season's ace."

"Not like he needs to try, with a face like that."

"Yeah, but if he's that good on top of being handsome..."

Adachi tunes out their conversation — he has the urge to chime in that Kurosawa is as good as the rumors say, but he squashes it down. He's absolutely sure that Kurosawa's performance is going to speak for itself.

And — in Adachi's amateur view, of course — it does. It's the Japanese version of a K-pop song that Adachi kind of knows, vaguely, maybe Rokkaku played it at work once; Kurosawa's dancing is sharp, and he barely goes off pitch, even as he skillfully raps and sings through the even the song's highest notes. There's such a difference in level between the two of them, Adachi thinks. Why are they even on the same show?

The judges deliberate for a long enough time that Adachi finds himself feeling nervous — there's no way Kurosawa deserves any less than an A, and that's obvious to Adachi, anyway. He's been better than almost anyone else so far — or, well, at least better than everyone Adachi has paid attention to. (He has no clue who else would be in A — namely, because only one of the very few people he knows ranked that highly.)

The room seems to fall silent, not even a hushed word or a whisper, as that nice dance trainer gives Kurosawa his grade. "...Kurosawa Yuichi. C."

That can't be right.

There are murmurs amongst the other contestants that quickly die down as one of the cameramen off to the side hushes them. A frown flashes across Kurosawa's handsome features, though it's replaced with the same neutral expression he put on when asked to do a cool pose, back at the first round of auditions. "C. Understood. Thank you."

He's about to walk offstage, with that practiced neutrality on his face — but Fujisaki stops him. "Actually, can I say one thing, before you return to your seat?"

"O-of course, sensei," Kurosawa says, eyebrows lifting in slight surprise. "Please."

"...I can tell what it is you're afraid of, and why you're holding back," Fujisaki advises. (Adachi has no clue what it is Fujisaki, or the rest of the judges, picked up on, but from the look in her eyes, soft and determined in equal measure — it's pretty clear she's speaking from experience.) "Don't focus on if you're going to be hated or not — focus on if you're good or not. I want to see your actual power by the time you get evaluated again, okay?"

"My actual power," Kurosawa repeats. (If that wasn't his actual power, then what is?, Adachi thinks.) "I'll definitely show you next time. Thank you." He bows politely, and returns to his seat, that strange C class ranking pinned to his chest.

The rest of the performances pass by in a blur, and before Adachi even knows it, all 101 contestants have been graded. He's certainly not the only F, thank goodness — at least he won't be suffering alone — but it's kind of hard to keep his head up; something about the grey t-shirt he's given, the same one as his other classmates, makes him feel like he's part of the scenery. Rokkaku suits orange well — it's a bright and refreshing color, just like he is — and his senpai stands out, even amongst the tiny A class, his dyed blonde hair perfectly matching the light pink of his shirt.

Kurosawa would look better in pink, too, Adachi thinks, his eyes drifting to the yellow of his C class shirt. He doesn't have time for that, though; the season's theme song, a peppy EDM number called Yume Oikakete ~Chase Me~, is revealed in front of him.

It's a good song, with fun choreography... or choreography that would be fun if Adachi could dance, he's sure, anyway. If he wants to move up at all, he has to pay attention — and since it's not like he has any talent or experience dancing, it'll be a challenge.

Adachi's always been good at keeping his head down and doing his best from the shadows. If he can do that — no, because he can do that — then over the next three days, he'll at least manage to go up to D.

"Were you upset about being placed into that class?"

These confession cam segments are kind of awkward, Adachi thinks — he pauses before he speaks, trying to get used to the camera on just him.

"It... isn't that I wasn't sad," Adachi explains. "But I also wasn't expecting another result, so I wasn't... y'know, broken up about it... and I don't think there's anything wrong with needing extra help, either."

"I wanted an A," Kurosawa admits. "And in that moment... I knew that I didn't want to let down anyone's expectations of me, so I'd have to work plenty hard to get there."

Maybe it's a coincidence, or some kind of luck, or it's fate, that Sakura Flavor's assigned dormitory's fourth bed goes to Kurosawa. It's four to a dorm, there are three guys in Sakura Flavor, and Kurosawa was one of only a few solo performers. It wasn't like there were a lot of options, anyway.

"Let's try to get along," Kurosawa says, once he's put his luggage away, with an amiable smile that Adachi can't quite read. "I'm going to head over to grab dinner," he adds, quickly leaving the room.

Adachi can't even speak; he simply nods, and Naohiko and Takumi let out general words of agreement as Kurosawa leaves the dorm.

"Sucks we're stuck with that guy," Naohiko says, as soon as Kurosawa leaves the room. "I bet he's cocky as fuck — did you see his face when they gave him a C?"

"No way he won't get a bad edit, if that's his attitude," Takumi agrees. "They're setting up Wataya to be the center this season, right?"

"Good," Naohiko decides. "They want Kurosawa's fame and his visuals, for sure, but I doubt they actually want him for the final group, especially if a C is the best he can do. Wataya might be kinda girly-looking, but he's charismatic."

"Kurosawa got noticed by Fujisaki, though. Lucky. She's supposed to be our vocal trainer — we're a vocal group — and we just get ignored? How is that fair?"

"They probably told her to say something to him," Takumi speculates. "Like, to make the viewers gain sympathy for him before they dump him. Or maybe they're setting up some storyline where she's into the handsome guys..."

The door to the dormitory swings open again, with a creak. "Oh, what do they have for dinner?" Naohiko asks, as Kurosawa steps in again, like he wasn't just talking smack about him moments before.

Adachi can read Kurosawa's face in an instant — that placid neutrality, so polite that it's pointed. He heard them, Adachi realizes. "It's loco moco today," Kurosawa says, before putting on a pair of headphones, no doubt blasting Chase Me, sitting on his bed, and eating in silence.

"Oh, tasty. Let's get some, Taku. Adachi, you want to come too? We can eat in the cafeteria, if you want," asks Naohiko, with a casual grin.

I have to fix this, Adachi thinks. "N-nah, I'll go later. Thanks, though," he quickly adds.

Takumi shrugs. "Suit yourself. We'll be back in 30," he says, and with that, the two of them leave the room.

I have to fix this, Adachi thinks, again; Kurosawa's eyes are downward, the darkness in them obvious. Kurosawa's in this all alone — and there's so much pressure on him already. And Adachi might just be Adachi — a player who exists to be sacrificed — but he has to at least try.

He pokes Kurosawa's knee awkwardly. "U-um," he says. "Kurosawa?"

Kurosawa blinks, and takes off his headphones. "Yes?" he asks.

Adachi did not come into this with a plan, so in the moment, he simply decides to rip off the bandaid. "...They're wrong about you," he says, quietly.

Kurosawa's face softens, surprising Adachi with the genuine vulnerability in it. "What?"

"Saying 'they really just have him here for his looks and clout' is... wrong," Adachi repeats, not making eye contact with Kurosawa — he can't look into his face now. "I was also there on your audition day, and I was really impressed with you then... and I didn't even know, like, anything about you. I don't keep up with underground idols or K-pop, really, so..."

Adachi realizes that he's kind of rambling, and takes a deep breath. "You... you're clearly talented, and you work hard. The producers, um, they wouldn't want you here if that wasn't the case."

Kurosawa is silent; maybe Adachi's overdone it, as he's done millions of times in the past. He scrambles for an excuse — anything to make what he just said disappear —

Instead, Kurosawa puts a hand to his face, a strange, tired smile coming across it. It's one of the most genuine faces Adachi's seen Kurosawa make, ever since that day at the audition. He takes a deep, shuddery breath and nods. "...Thank you for saying that," Kurosawa replies, after a moment. "Adachi, right?"

"Y-yeah, Adachi Kiyoshi. Not that there's any need for you to remember that," Adachi half-jokes.

"No, I will. ...Thank you," Kurosawa repeats, with a nod, as he blinks a few times in rapid succession before putting his headphones back on. ...He probably doesn't hate me, Adachi thinks, before going to grab some dinner of his own; he'll store that interaction with the rest of the weirdly earnest, undeniably embarrassing things he's said in his life.

The studio's practice rooms unlock at 4:00 AM, so Adachi gets up at 3:00. There's barely anyone around that early, only a stray cameraman who's probably meant to pick up footage of whoever's insane enough to start their day that early.

There are a few reasons that Adachi chooses to go that soon in the day; the lack of people around to embarrass himself around is certainly one of them. The other thing is that, if he practices for the longest amount of time possible, his chances of actually improving go way up; if he spends every moment he can going through Chase Me's tougher-than-it-looks choreography, maybe it'll eventually become something... that's a normal difficulty. ("Easy" is probably asking for too much, Adachi figures.)

It takes about an hour, spent mirroring the video they've been given of the choreography as best he can, for Adachi to at least be able to keep up with the fast pace of the song; the lyrics are, slowly but surely, beginning to stick, as of hour two. (Or, at least, the obligatory "pick me up" section is — god, that's going to be stuck in his head forever.) Still, though, Adachi doesn't quite feel like it's enough; he takes a video of himself singing and dancing along, and sighs, frustrated. "Still not good," he mutters to himself, as he sets the camera up again.

"I don't think you're doing that bad."

Adachi turns, and can't hide the blatant surprise on his face when he sees Kurosawa standing at the doorway to the practice room — Adachi hadn't even realized he hadn't closed the door. "Oh, uh, how — how long were you watching?" he quickly asks, feeling the tips of his ears go red.

"Just your last run through, but... you don't have any experience dancing, do you?"

Adachi shakes his head. "Not much more than my friend Rokkaku taught me. That obvious?"

"I was going to say," Kurosawa says, instead, "that for someone who hasn't really danced before, you aren't doing a poor job at all. And you're already singing while doing it — some guys don't practice that, and you can tell when they perform..."

"...Oh." The praise is... unexpected, to say the least, and Adachi certainly thinks it's undeserved. "Uh, well, thanks."

"Actually," Kurosawa continues, "If you want, I can help you practice. There's one thing that I noticed that... might be easier to show you, rather than just telling you." There's hesitance in his voice, even as he properly steps into the room.

There's nobody else in this specific practice room, so Kurosawa must be talking to him — though Adachi doesn't quite believe it. "With the choreography?"

"Yeah. You almost have it," Kurosawa says, an encouraging smile on his face. "The problem is your elbows — you're dancing like you don't want to make contact with anyone."

"I don't want to make contact with anyone..."

"But for the re-evaluation, at least, you'll be solo, right? Go through it again, from the top, but move your arms more."

"...Okay," Adachi says, starting the demo track of the song from the beginning. As Kurosawa requested, he moves his arms a little bit more, making sure not to tuck his elbows into his torso, even though he very much wants to.

"That's already 50 times better," Kurosawa says, grinning.

"I'm still no dancer," Adachi says, shyly.

"But you could get there. You are getting there," Kurosawa amends. "You wanna run through it together?"

"...Together."

"Yeah, like... I'm dancing... and you're dancing at the same time."

"At the same — why?" Adachi asks, before he can stop himself. "I mean, um, I'd — be honored — or, like, sure, but..."

"If you want to practice making big gestures without hitting anybody, then it'll probably be easier with someone next to you."

It's a good point, and Kurosawa seems genuine enough. "...Come... come in," Adachi says, with a vague gesture.

Kurosawa drops his bag by the door and stands next to Adachi. He smiles — god, he's so dazzling, even when he isn't onstage — and nods once. "From the top."

It is, in fact, a lot easier to practice not hitting someone when there's somebody to potentially hit. Performing with Kurosawa is... surprisingly comfortable; Adachi was expecting his usual anxiety and inferiority complex to flare up in full force, but neither of those awful feelings bubble up in his chest. Instead, it's...

Fun.

It's actually a lot of fun practicing with Kurosawa. Of all the ways Adachi though that this scenario would end, genuinely enjoying himself sure wasn't one of them. Kurosawa is fantastic, his singing and dancing as on point as always, and Adachi finds himself imitating him, just a little — the way his fingers curl and point, with elegance and coolness in equal measure, at least, is something he can steal.

They go through the choreography a couple more times, until Adachi slumps against the practice room's mirror, his bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat, his heart beating out of his chest from the physical exertion — but he's smiling. He's pretty sure he hasn't smiled this much in the entire duration of his Produce experience, so far.

Kurosawa walks over to his bag and tosses Adachi a towel. "Good work," Kurosawa says.

"You too," Adachi replies — maybe he's tired enough that he can actually get through a single sentence to this star without stuttering or pausing. "You really seem cool when you're performing."

"Ah, that's nothing," Kurosawa says. "Oh, and here," he adds, rifling through his bag for something. "Gotta keep your energy up, right? Especially since you were practicing from... what, six in the morning?"

"...Uh, four, actually," Adachi says, sheepishly.

Kurosawa raises his eyebrows, a look that Adachi can only sort of read (there's certainly surprise, and something else; what that something is, Adachi is clueless) briefly crossing his face. He walks over and hands Adachi an electrolyte drink — it's a brand Adachi likes a lot, surprisingly. "I had extras from the other day," Kurosawa explains.

"...Thanks," Adachi says, taking a long drink as he lets his heartbeat slow. He checks his watch — they'll have to be with their own classes in a couple of hours, but there's still time. "Can we go through it again?"

Kurosawa smiles again. Adachi, barely, resists the urge to flinch at his brightness. "Yeah, let's do it," Kurosawa agrees, once again starting the song again from the top.

Three days feels short and long, all at once. Adachi doesn't spend every free moment he has practicing — he still needs to eat and sleep some, after all — but he finds himself waking up as early as he can to practice. And every morning, after a few hours, Kurosawa joins him.

Adachi knows he wasn't the only one Kurosawa helped; there are a few other F class trainees that Adachi overhears whispering about how kind he is for helping them out, and Rokkaku mentioned briefly over dinner one day that Kurosawa had shown up for the B class, too, even though technically, they all were a level ahead of him. But there's still something in his chest that makes him feel extra good about his results when Kurosawa praises his improvement.

On the day of the re-evaluations, there's a stormy mood in the F class's designated practice room. Adachi's nervous, too, of course; if he doesn't manage to go up any, he'll have ruined his sleep schedule for no reason at all. But there's a strange confidence buzzing through him, nonetheless. He feels like, just maybe, things are going to work out better than he thought.

He's the first up in the F class, too, so that certainly helps; thank you, Japanese alphabet, he thinks to himself, for helping me get this over with quickly.

Chase Me is about four minutes long; Adachi takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes, as its thumping beat plays over the class practice room's tinny speakers. He can do it. He's got this. He'll go up to D, wear a green shirt, and at least be able to say he went up a class before he was sent home. He dances and sings with everything he's got — and everything Kurosawa was nice enough to teach him — and even hits the ending pose on beat.

Adachi is grinning, just a little, as he sits down. He's proud of himself — and grateful to the trainers and Kurosawa for helping him so much.

There's a lot of waiting, as the rest of the F class goes through their performances — and then even more waiting, a day's worth of it, as the trainers sit in a shadowy room somewhere, deciding who will rise — and who will stay in place, or even fall, no doubt. (Rokkaku's worried about that; Adachi, however, managed to say something sort of reassuring over their brief dinner conversation, and his friend's 100% energetic smile had returned in an instant.)

When it's finally time to get their new grades, the F class is made to sit in neat rows. It's Fujisaki who's in charge of giving the class their new grades. "Adachi Kiyoshi," she announces, her voice betraying nothing whatsoever — as expected of a star, Adachi thinks.

Adachi shuffles forward to receive his new class. "Yes."

Fujisaki hands him the envelope — her face is completely blank, but there's a sparkle in her eyes that gives Adachi some hope. He sits back down and peeks into his envelope, making sure that nobody can see his reaction — even though he can't quite stifle the "eh" that comes out of his mouth, even though he wants to.

He's... gone up.

Not just up one class, to D, or even all the way to C — but to B.

It's gotta be fake, or a mistake — there's no way he did that much better. He tries to make eye contact with Fujisaki, to silently ask are you sure you gave me the right envelope, but — no, she's focused completely on handing the rest of the class their grades. Adachi's eyes widen — he's not going to fit with the rest of the B class! He isn't on Rokkaku's level, he's absolutely sure. And if Kurosawa didn't move up —

On the tiny, absolutely minuscule off chance that Kurosawa is stuck in C — there's no way Adachi deserves to be any higher than him, or even on the same level, that's for sure. He thinks back to Fujisaki's words about Kurosawa's true power; he had to show whatever that was off, right? He didn't hold back?

All Adachi can really do is hope that he didn't. He draws his knees to his chest, and wonders what's going on two classrooms away.

Once the process of re-assignment is finally done (Rokkaku wraps Adachi up into a bone-crushing hug once he realizes they're in the same place) and Adachi pulls on his new orange shirt, the next thing is voting. Chase Me needs a center. Every trainee ranked below the A class watches every A class member perform, and then everyone gets a chance to vote for which one trainee they want in the center.

"Who are you gonna pick?" Rokkaku asks, elbowing Adachi gently. "I mean, I'm going for Minato. But that Kurosawa guy is cool too... going up from C and everything. I know a bunch of people are going to vote for him."

"Is that so..." Adachi says — he should be unbiased, here, and go for who he thinks the best performer is. He's only really familiar with two guys in the A class, as is, Kurosawa (thank god he went up — and Adachi was right, Kurosawa does look so much better in pink) and Minato — and even then, he barely knows Minato.

But when he thinks of Kurosawa — the way he performs, the way he looks when he's genuinely smiling, every word of encouragement he's given Adachi — there's just something Adachi is sure about.

There's no way Adachi's vote could go to anyone else.

"Of course it was going to be you," Adachi says, voice soft. "The center, I mean."

The two of them are in a practice room, once again, but they aren't practicing; it's just a quiet moment, before they have to head back to the dorms, for Adachi to extend his congratulations.

It isn't said out of jealousy — Adachi's a realist, on some level, anyway; he's well aware that Kurosawa is on a far higher level than he is, in, well, everything, even after all the practice Adachi's put in — even though, now, they're only one class apart. Adachi just can't picture a world where Kurosawa doesn't shine, front and center, even out of 101 people. "I mean, you took time out of your practice to help someone like me out... and I'm not even the only person you were nice to. So everyone's... I mean, I'm definitely grateful to you. And that's not even mentioning how good your performing is. You really deserve it."

I don't know why you even bothered with me. I won't be here for much longer, Adachi doesn't say. I'm nothing, compared to you. I'm barely a pawn.

Kurosawa shakes his head. He's smiling, but there's something in his eyes — like he's... surprised to hear those words. "You're being too nice," he chides, gently, but Adachi hears his voice shake with vulnerability. It almost sounds like he's about to cry. "Before, and now. But — thank you. I mean it."

Adachi nods. He blames the fact that he can't look Kurosawa in the eye on that stupid, dazzling sparkle of his. "W-we should get back to the dorm, before somebody yells at us," he manages, quickly standing up. "Right?"

"...Right," Kurosawa agrees. "Let's go."

(And if Adachi notices Kurosawa smiling their entire way back, he certainly doesn't say anything about it.)

Chapter Text

There's a stray cat who hangs around the studio in Korea.

It isn't that Tsuge is particularly fond of cats, or anything. He's on locations filming things or at home editing into the hours of the night so frequently that he wouldn't be able to properly take care of one — he knows that much to be true. But he's stepping outside for his break when he hears it: a few soft meows coming from a box that once held noodles. He turns around the corner, and there she is — a cat who seems too skinny, with no collar.

Maybe it's strays that Tsuge has a fondness for, because even as he heads back inside to film some more behind the scenes footage, he can't stop thinking about that poor, lonely cat.

They have three days in Korea, so that the contestants can film the music video for Chase Me. On his second, Tsuge buys a can of wet cat food — the really nice stuff, because he doesn't know much about cat food but does know that at least it has nutrients — and a large bag of the dry kind, because cats can't open cans, but they can probably scratch open a bag, when push comes to shove.

When he goes to give it to the cat, though, he nearly drops the bag — someone else noticed her, too. And that garish dyed-blonde hair — it's unmistakable. That arrogant contestant with the awful, flashy vibes. Wataya Minato.

He's crouched down, the cat purring as he scratches between her ears and butts her head against his hand. She seems happy, certainly. And the fond look on Minato's face is... almost...

Charming? Endearing, maybe. Pleasant to look at.

(Cute, suggests Tsuge's brain. He doesn't like that, though, so he ignores it.)

He approaches quietly. "I brought her some food," Tsuge explains, not bothering greeting this guy. He can be as... not completely annoying as he wants; Tsuge still doesn't want to interact with him more than he has to.

Minato doesn't even look up from the cat. "She must be hungry," he muses. "I wish I could take her back to Japan with me..."

"It'd probably be a problem, having her in the dorms," Tsuge replies, peeling open the can of food. The cat rushes over, immediately lapping hungrily at the fancy cat food. "It's a shame. She seems like a good cat."

"There's this one stray, in the park where I used to practice my dancing," Minato says, now looking at Tsuge for the first time — there's no trace of his PR-video cocky smirk, just a... kind of affectionate nostalgia. "I'm a delivery guy, most of the time, and it's not like it pays crazy well, but I try to treat her when I can. This cat reminds me of her... I hope she finds a home. This cat, and the one back home."

"Is that so," Tsuge says, looking back at the cat. There's an almost... warm feeling in his chest at that story.

He doesn't like it, not one bit — flashy party guys can like cats, but they're still flashy party guys, the kind that Tsuge avoids associating with at all costs, because they're annoying. He drops the bag of dry food with a whump and not so much as a goodbye — he has other things he needs to focus on, like... filming. And getting ready to edit. And making sure Adachi isn't in over his head, because they're friends, and he's gotta look out for his friends. He can make a list of excuses — no, wait, not excuses, reasons — pretty easily, if he puts his mind to it.

(On their last day in Korea, Tsuge finds himself staying up late, filling out adoption papers, and a special form to let the cat on the airplane with him back to Japan. He names her Udon, since she was in a noodle box, fixes her up with a nice collar, and pointedly does not think about Minato's hope that she'd eventually find a home.)

The thing is — Adachi can go on the internet right now, look up the phrase "Produce 101 theme song", and see videos with millions of views of hundreds of strangers, all of them with the same dream that Adachi has right now. The triangular stage, lit this season in pale shades of purple and blue, was something that only existed on his phone and on the screen of his laptop.

But it's real. It's very real. They'll perform, all 101 of them, and then individually for their fancams, which people will see. It's the last step, before the theme song is released and the first episode airs, a week later. It almost feels like someone's dumped a bucket of ice over Adachi's head. He fidgets with his bowtie — it's all kind of ridiculous, for how nerve-wracking it is.

"You okay?" Kurosawa asks — his version of the uniform has a crisp tie, and god, does it suit him well. He could — should — be hanging with the rest of the A class, in these brief minutes before the classes disperse and filming begins — but for some reason, he's at Adachi's side.

Adachi musters up a smile. "...Y-yeah," he replies, unconvincingly. "Totally, y'know, fine." He can't bring himself to make eye contact with Kurosawa — probably because it's such a blatant lie.

But Kurosawa just laughs. "That makes one of us. I've never been this nervous in my life."

His tone is light, but Adachi can tell that Kurosawa's serious — it's in the set of his jaw, even though he's ostensibly smiling. Of course he's nervous, Adachi realizes, all at once; he's the center. Adachi has to be good, yes, but Kurosawa has to be perfect. That kind of pressure is something Adachi is sure he's never going to experience. It's something he can't even imagine.

Adachi hesitates — he doesn't want to seem overeager, since being called that so many times is why he's since retreated far, far back into his shell — but manages to stiffly pat Kurosawa on the shoulder. "You... we, the both of us, are going to be okay," he gets out. He almost sounds convincing.

Kurosawa gives Adachi that same strange look, and nods. "We will," Kurosawa agrees.

Before Adachi can dig himself any deeper, the director instructs the classes to get to their places — it's showtime. Kurosawa waves as he takes his place at the front of the triangle, that distant vertex where nobody else could possibly belong. The B class stage is to the right, and Adachi's in the third row.

If someone were to watch closely — paying attention to a tiny black-haired speck in a bowtie — they'd probably notice how many looks Adachi shoots in Kurosawa's direction, when he should be mugging for the camera at every opportunity. Kurosawa doesn't take his eyes off of that central camera, his gaze a mixture of intensity, confidence, and cheer that suits the song perfectly.

He's way too dazzling, Adachi thinks. Eventually, he forces himself to look ahead and focus on the choreography. He'll make mistakes if all he's looking at is Kurosawa, and he's not about to break his we'll both be okay promise.

The trainees aren't supposed to check social media, technically; there's too much risk of rules violations if they do. It doesn't stop anyone from doing so, especially once the theme song drops on YouTube.

The comments section is just about what Adachi thought it would be — that center is way too good looking, KUROSAWA FROM LA5ER!!! finally getting his big break!!!, and a lot of English and Korean comments that mostly turn out to be about Kurosawa when Adachi google translates them. Twitter is pretty much the same — there are tons of people using an emoji of sparkles (fitting, Adachi thinks, for the most shining person Adachi's ever seen) and yelling about how awesome Kurosawa is.

Rokkaku's senpai is plenty popular, too — his official profile has the second highest amount of retweets after Kurosawa's, and a legion of people with cat emojis seem to be supporting him. And there are a decent crowd of Rokkaku supporters, it seems, too — they use a juice box emoji for him, since in his PR video, he claimed to have a smile more refreshing than 100% orange juice. (It fits Rokkaku well, Adachi thinks. He's 100% everything, at all times.)

Adachi's PR video creeps to over 1000 views after the third day it's uploaded. There are three accounts, two based in Japan and one seemingly from America, who use the onigiri emoji in their bios. Three supporters, and a whole host of tweets along the lines of "what the hell is this guy doing singing about his lunch lmao".

It isn't surprising at all when the first episode airs, with the first ranking at its tail end. Sakura Flavor doesn't get much screen time, but Naohiko and Takumi are both squarely ranked in the 50s — above the cut-off of the next elimination, if only barely. Rokkaku's doing well, too, at 31st, and naturally, Minato and Kurosawa are at 2nd and 1st overall.

The first round of voting is 11-pick; even with the ability to vote for 11 trainees at once, Adachi still ranks 80th.

It isn't surprising. It's a bitter taste to go down, certainly, but Adachi can't bring himself to get angry about it. If he was in the position of a viewer — a national producer, as he's supposed to call them — he sure as hell wouldn't include the rice ball guy in his top 11, especially with his complete lack of screen time. He isn't getting a bad edit — he talks about being put into the F class, and he also appears as one of the several trainees who Kurosawa gave a helping hand to, which is neutral for him, in the grand scheme of things — but he certainly isn't one of the main characters.

Adachi hasn't bothered unpacking his bags in his dorm, and now, he really sees no reason to. He'll be going home soon enough, after all. One more performance, and then the eliminations... and then, the only ending he can see in front of him will come.

Three fans is, really, three more than he was expecting anyway. Adachi resolves to work hard until the very end, so that he won't let them down.

"I hope there's a good dance song," Rokkaku says, brimming with nervous energy. "The position battles are where things really start to take off."

As if I'm not far out of the atmosphere already, Adachi sheepishly thinks. They're in... some kind of gymnasium, gathered into their classes, with long lines of rope and three positions — dance, rap, and vocals — on big signs. There's also a large presentation board, covered up with a sheet, where Urabe is standing, as he waits for the OK to start explaining the next round.

"Welcome," Urabe explains, once the cameras start rolling, "to the position evaluation! It's time to show the national producers what it is you're the best at. When your name is called, choose one song from vocals, dance, or rap — but be careful, because the songs might fill up before you can pick one. Luck really is essential in show business, huh?"

Adachi resists the urge to groan. He can show his best stuff all he wants — it isn't like it's going to help him at this point.

"Two teams will perform each song," Urabe continues, making a peace sign with his fingers. "And... do you want to hear what the benefits the winning team will receive will be?"

"I wanna know!" yells out Rokkaku, loudly enough that he's definitely going to get on screen for it when the episode airs.

"Then... I'll tell you!" Urabe declares. (Adachi simply wishes he could say what they are and get this over with.) "The team that gets the most votes will win an extra 1000 votes for each member. The most voted-for trainee in a team will receive an extra 3000 votes. And the most voted-for trainee in each position... will receive an extra 10,000 votes!"

There's a murmuring among the trainees as they take that information in. Adachi stays silent. Even if he's on a team that does well enough to win against whoever else is there, 1000 votes isn't going to change things for him much... and aiming for the best in the entire vocal position? That's ridiculous. A far-fetched delusion, at the very best —

"You'll be going for vocals, right, Adachi?" Rokkaku asks, snapping Adachi out of his thoughts.

"If I can," Adachi replies, eventually, his voice measured. He's seen the last two seasons, after all — there's always a team or two of leftovers who couldn't get into the position that they wanted. Adachi knows his luck well enough to know that being a leftover is probably his destiny.

"So, now," Urabe announces, "let's reveal the songs!" He removes the sheet covering the board with a flourish.

"Oh, Choutokkyuu? They're decent," Rokkaku says, pointing at one of the dance songs — it's the only J-pop one amongst a host of K-pop songs in Japanese that Adachi isn't even going to pretend to know. There's only one rap song, simply marked "original" — those poor guys will have to write their own lyrics.

The vocal songs, though, are much more inviting — Adachi can't help but perk up. There's the last season's obligatory finale ballad, a recent Kenshi Yonezu release, a LiSA song from an anime that Adachi half-watched, and an Enjin song — that pretty wintery ballad, Far Away. Any of those would work. With any of those... Adachi would be proud to stand on his last stage, singing like (or, rather, singing because) he'll never sing again.

Kurosawa gets to pick first — it's center privilege, one that nobody can really complain about. He's all confidence as he picks a GOT7 song, and Adachi's sure that he's going to do excellently. The rest of the names are drawn at random, naturally, and Adachi tries not to let his heart sink into his stomach.

Naohiko and Takumi both go for the finale ballad — and Adachi is silently grateful that those slots fill up quickly, before his name is drawn. Minato and Rokkaku both go for the Choutokkyuu song. Every other song — save the GOT7 one (nobody wants to go up against Kurosawa, Adachi figures — he certainly wouldn't), and save Far Away — fills up surprisingly quickly.

Adachi doesn't even get the luxury of having his name called. The five or so "leftover" trainees — just as Adachi thought — are all shoved onto Far Away, without a choice. He's grateful that, at least, it's a vocal song he's stuck on; if he'd been unlucky enough to be forced into dancing or rapping... it would've been awful. The first trainee to pick each song chooses their group, and to Adachi's surprise, the guy who chose Far Away first — a C rank trainee, Teramoto Yukito — actually chooses Adachi to be on his team. "You're in that vocal group, and you went up a lot, so you'll probably be good," he explains, with a smile.

"I-I'll do my best," Adachi says, with a firm nod. Maybe this won't go... extremely south, or if it does, it'll at least be at a low speed.

Adachi doesn't mean to watch Kurosawa's team practicing. He really doesn't. It's just, well — there's kind of a crowd gathered, and it's distracting. Rokkaku and Minato are also rubbernecking, no doubt checking out their direct competition.

A lot of A class trainees, and a bunch of popular guys from other classes, had picked the GOT7 song — it makes sense. You'd need confidence to potentially go up against or be outshined by the center, after all. But Kurosawa didn't just pick his teammates based on popularity, it seems — it's not just an Avengers team that'd win no matter what, but a surprisingly balanced group of six. He's got a shrewd eye, Adachi thinks. There are even a couple of flawlessly-executed gymnastics in the choreography — maybe those were there before, Adachi has no idea, but they're cool as hell nonetheless.

"Yo, Adachi," Yukito calls. "Can you help Mitsuo with the harmony, here?"

Adachi jumps, but nods, reluctantly tearing himself away from Kurosawa's brilliance. If they're that good, even when they're just practicing, the rest of the dance category is screwed.

Practicing with the rest of his team goes smoothly enough, at least. They're not blatantly terrible people, like Takumi and Naohiko, anyway, and Adachi finds himself actually feeling somewhat useful — Far Away is a pretty song that he knows well enough to teach the harmonies to the rest of the members. "We're gonna kill those other guys," Yukito declares. His confidence is almost contagious.

Almost.

"How'd your rehearsal go?" Kurosawa asks, that night at their dorm. Naohiko and Takumi are elsewhere, thank goodness — they've been shooting Adachi nasty looks ever since he went up to B and they dropped to D, and frankly, after how randomly cruel they were to Kurosawa, Adachi isn't super interested in keeping up friendly relations with them, anyway.

"It was fun," Adachi says, with a small smile. "I think... I think my team has a chance to do pretty well. I think."

Kurosawa smiles. "I'm glad to hear that," he replies. "I'm really looking forward to hear you sing again... you really did well at the initial audition, y'know."

Adachi feels the tips of his ears turning red. "Y-you were paying attention? Back then?" It was... a month and change ago; it feels like it was forever ago, with all the everything that's happened since.

"...I was in my own head for a lot of it," Kurosawa admits. "But I remember what you sang. Dreams Come True. And then that Chris Hart song in your PR video — you've got such a beautiful voice."

"Oh, god, please tell me you didn't watch that video," Adachi groans, shoving a pillow in his own face. "I'm going to be known as 'onigiri guy' until the day I die."

Kurosawa laughs. "Not when you blow everyone out of the waters with your performance, you won't."

"'Blowing everyone out of the water' is kind of a strong statement," Adachi mutters.

"I have confidence in you," Kurosawa says — Adachi might have a face full of pillow, but he can hear the smile in Kurosawa's voice anyway. "The national producers will see that, too."

"...Here's hoping," Adachi says, finally putting down his pillow. He really can only hope so — with the low views on his PR video, and Sakura Flavor's lack of screen time... it's probably the first time a lot of them will realize he's supposed to be a vocalist in the first place. Even if the national producers watched the full clip of Sakura Flavor's level test online, they still won't have a clue what Adachi sounds like.

Fuck, Adachi thinks to himself, nerves suddenly bubbling up in his chest and stomach. He shouldn't be nervous, since he's going home soon, anyway — but if he messes up here... it really will all have been for nothing.

As is, Adachi hasn't been sleeping well. It's an unfamiliar bed, and the most high-pressure situation he's ever been in. There are three fans — and Kurosawa, so that his new companion's confidence isn't misplaced — who he needs to do well for... and there's a very large chance that his nerves will take over again, and he won't be able to do anything at all.

His rest that night is especially fitful.

When Adachi wakes up the next morning — three in the morning, as usual — not only is his anxiety so far through the roof that his heart is pounding so hard it's probably audible, but he's tired. It's an important day — they're meeting with either that flamboyant vocal trainer, or Fujisaki — but Adachi has to chug two energy drinks to keep his eyes open. And if it is that flamboyant trainer — Adachi is terrified. He knows that that guy can turn a mouse into a million-selling vocalist, but also that he's loud, and if Adachi gets yelled at, he might just have a nervous breakdown.

That fear, at least, ends up being unfounded. Adachi's teammates titter with excitement as Fujisaki enters the room; he only manages a relieved sigh, but at least it's something. "Good morning, trainees," she says, a smile playing at her lips. "Let's see how well your rehearsals are going."

The backtrack begins playing over the speaker system, and somehow, Adachi manages to get through the song — even the harmonies — without passing out from exhaustion. And Fujisaki does smile, when their performance is over. "You've all done well. I do have some individual notes, but I'm pleased to see your progress," she says.

"She praised us!" whispers Mitsuo excitedly, off to Adachi's side. Adachi manages a strained smile and a nod.

"Teramoto," she begins, "you're yelling your adlibs at the end. If you don't feel comfortable while you're singing, you're not singing healthily. Sakurada, breathe from your diaphragm — you end up having to breathe between syllables, and it ends up sounding awkward." Her voice is kind, even as she offers the group critique, and her critique is good — she puts into words things Adachi maybe noticed his teammates doing, but just couldn't explain thanks to his lack of experience.

"...And Adachi," Fujisaki finishes. "What are you thinking about when you sing this song?"

"H-huh?" Adachi asks. "Thinking?"

"Technique-wise, you're fine, for a trainee," Fujisaki explains. "But your focus isn't on the song itself, or how you're singing it, is it?"

"...I..." Adachi says, uselessly — she's right. She saw through him like glass. "I'm... not expecting to make it any farther than this. So I'm nervous. A-and I haven't been able to... show off to the national producers properly, at all. I don't want to let anyone d-down."

Fujisaki nods, resting her chin on her hands. "You don't think you're going to make it to the next round," she repeats.

"It's... it's obviously very unlikely," Adachi confirms.

Fujisaki is quiet for a moment. "You're not really the confident type, are you, Adachi? I think, to succeed in this industry, you need to be sure of who you are, even if it's just to yourself." Something in her voice is the tiniest bit shaky — it's like she's talking about more than just the entertainment industry, but Adachi can't put his finger on what she could be talking about. "But if you can't be, you were put on a good song to channel your nerves into. Recite the lyrics from after the hook for me?"

"Today's another goodbye, but we're still connected somewhere, right? It's okay for me to believe that, right?" Adachi replies, frowning.

"If it's as you say, and this performance really could be your last one," Fujisaki explains, "then you can put that emotion into singing these lyrics. It is okay for you to believe, even if it is your goodbye."

Adachi swallows — there's a lump in his throat, suddenly — and nods. "I, um, I'll keep that in mind," he stutters out.

Fujisaki smiles. She really is pretty, Adachi thinks — but more than that, she's so wise. He's surprised, honestly, that the other trainees can only focus on her looks. "Alright. Let's run it one more time, from the top. And Sakurada, don't forget to breathe."

Adachi's stage costume is a dark blue button-up shirt and black slacks; it's a simple outfit, certainly, but it's also probably the most expensive thing Adachi's ever worn. There's makeup, real eyeliner and highlighter and lip gloss on his face, and the hairstylists have even managed to turn his eternal bedhead into something that would be "fashionably tousled" on anyone else. He doesn't look like himself, and he looks like he got into his cousin's makeup, all at once.

Rokkaku and Minato's team is buzzing excitedly — they have no reason to be nervous — in their extremely idol-esque, color-coded stage outfits. And Kurosawa's team is the picture of confidence, naturally — they're in the kind of trendy streetwear that Rokkaku wears on his days off, and of course, that look suits Kurosawa perfectly, too. (Adachi allows himself to stare, just this once — the melancholy he feels about his inevitable separation from Kurosawa, somewhere between roommate and friend, is something he can channel into his performance, after all.)

The two Far Away teams are the second to last to perform overall, though who knows what order their performances will be broadcast in. Adachi is more than fine with that; he likes watching Rokkaku and Minato absolutely burst with enthusiasm on Clap Our Hands, and on some level, he's scoping out the competition with every other vocal team. (He keeps his face neutral when Naohiko and Takumi's team doesn't do well, because the last thing he needs is a negative edit.)

Kurosawa's team, naturally, does fantastic; even in the green room with the rest of the trainees, there's a good deal of whooping and swooning, and while Adachi isn't really the "whooping and swooning" type, he certainly understands the sentiment. Surprisingly, Kurosawa isn't his team's center — it's a D class trainee that Adachi doesn't know the name of yet — but even though the starring role isn't Kurosawa's this time, his dancing is as razor-sharp and precise as ever, his facial expressions perfectly complimenting the fun lyrics of the song, even though he isn't singing it.

It's sad, Adachi thinks — he's only performed with Kurosawa once, and even then, it was barely a performance together. He won't get the chance to do it again, and that hurts. What he would give to be able to share the stage with Kurosawa, even once.

He stores that away into the "things to channel into his performance" section of his brain. At the very least, nobody will be able to say Adachi didn't put on an emotional performance, because he's feeling so much that it's like he's about to burst.

And, sure enough — though nobody votes for Adachi, a fat goose egg making him the lowest ranked trainee out of any vocal team — his team does well enough to beat the other one. He'll at least be going home with an extra thousand votes to his name.

Adachi wipes a tear from his cheek, even though he's smiling — he hadn't meant to start crying, because he isn't sad, not at all. "I'm happy that I could give a performance that might've... emotionally moved someone," he says. "If this is how Adachi Kiyoshi, the singer, is remembered... then I'm p-proud of myself.

"I was paying attention to everyone, but Adachi from the Far Away team... really made my heart move," Kurosawa says. His face doesn't reveal anything but a tepid-at-best interest, but his words certainly do. "I saw a few people in the back room crying during his solo parts. I understood completely."

This goddamn Minato guy.

Tsuge rewinds and presses play. It's the fifth time he's watched Minato's fancam. Udon meows from the place on Tsuge's couch that she's made her home, and Tsuge barely hears it.

Minato is so energetic on stage, so electric — so passionate. Tsuge had that much passion, once, when he thought he'd be editing films instead of reality TV shows; that much passion, if you have it, shows through any screen.

It's almost frustrating, how much effort Tsuge can tell Minato is putting in, because Tsuge knows what it's like to extend that much effort for a maybe that might not come true. He's aware that Minato's highly ranked and plenty popular, but Tsuge knows all too well that you can put as much love into something creative as you want — it doesn't mean it's going to turn out well for you.

There's an optimism in Minato's eyes that hasn't been quashed yet, and so much hard work that's obvious in the way he's panting, even as he strikes a cute ending pose.

It makes Tsuge's chest squeeze, so tightly that it's painful.

...Is this what they call doki-doki? Tsuge thinks, finally closing out of the window and sending the video files to his boss, before finally giving Udon the attention that she deserves.

Chapter Text

The last thing they film after the post-performance confession cam segments, it seems, is a vote. "So," asks the cameraman, "who do you think is the most good-looking trainee this season?"

"...Eh?" Adachi asks.

The cameraman sighs. "For the visual center segment. The most good-looking trainee. You seen the past two seasons, man?"

"N-no, I have, I have," Adachi quickly reassures him, shaking his head. God, he'd been crying in that white confession room a minute ago, and now he's being forced to rank the objective handsomeness of 100 other people. "Well... Yukito from my team is pretty cool, and Minato... people say he's pretty... um..."

"Can you just choose someone," the cameraman flatly declares. It isn't a question. "Handsome, then say why."

Why. Alright, then — if it's someone he has to give a reason about, he'll just say what he really thinks. "Kurosawa Yuichi," he says. "It isn't because of his face... or not just because of his face," Adachi corrects himself, because he's be foolish not to acknowledge the fact that Kurosawa probably saved a country in his past life to be born that handsome. "He always seems cool when he's working hard, and he's kind... and you can, um, tell on his face."

"Alright, cool, you're good. A bunch of trainees said his name," muses the cameraman.

Adachi isn't surprised at that at all. He's just one of the crowd — he doubts they'll even use footage of his answer, even when Kurosawa inevitably wins. All he can think about, though, as he walks back to the dressing room to change back into his casual clothes, is just how much longer he could've talked about Kurosawa's indelible charm.

"My visual pick?" Kurosawa repeats, brows furrowing. "Adachi Kiyoshi," he decides, after what's barely a second of hesitance.

"...Who's that?" the cameraman asks. "Or, um, give your reasons, please."

"...Because he's cute," Kurosawa says, with a simple, flat smile, after a long pause. "Can I go now?"

The cameraman blinks. "Eh, yeah, sure." It's a short response, and the cameraman doesn't even know who Kurosawa's talking about, but whatever. It's just another part of this bizarre job.

Once the second half of the position battles air, there's a strange, quiet air permeating the dormitory. They're done performing; the next step is just... waiting. Mindless, mind-numbing waiting.

All things considered, Adachi isn't stressed out at all. Naohiko and Takumi spend every minute of their free time packing their bags and grumbling, and Kurosawa's in the habit of pacing outside their room, a pensive, worried look on his face — though what Kurosawa could be worried about is far beyond Adachi. It isn't like the center isn't going to debut.

Adachi, though — Adachi's bags are already packed, since they were never unpacked. He's been ready to go home since the moment he got here. The only thing he ends up taking out is the back volumes of Ragna Crimson that he packed, so that he can pass the time doing something to ease his boredom. They have five more days till the eliminations are filmed, and Adachi isn't going to waste it being anxious about a result he's already sure of.

It's the night before the eliminations are filmed that Kurosawa and Adachi end up in their same, usual early-morning practice room — though this time, it's late at night, just before they close. And just like after the vote for Chase Me's center, they didn't exactly come to practice. Adachi wonders just how he became Kurosawa's companion for these late night talks, when they're pretty much just roommates, and there are at least 97 other guys who would probably kill to be Kurosawa's confidant — but he doesn't find himself minding much, either; since this is the last time it'll ever happen, he might as well make the most of it.

"...You're going to do really well tomorrow," he says, quietly. "I wouldn't be surprised if... if you made it all the way to first."

Kurosawa smiles — Adachi notes that it isn't dazzling, and that it doesn't come close to reaching his eyes. "I... guess I hope so," Kurosawa says, voice measured, after a moment.

"You guess?"

"...There's other things I'm concerned about," Kurosawa says, flatly. "It's still a long road ahead of us, y'know?"

"You'll be fine," Adachi says — it isn't just a simple reassurance, but a truth that can't really be denied. "You're... it's like I said, back in Korea, right? You'll be okay."

Kurosawa smirks. It's still completely mirthless. "You said we'd be okay."

"...It's, it's basically the same thing, isn't it?"

"...How are you feeling about tomorrow?" Kurosawa asks, instead of elaborating. He turns to face Adachi, eyes burning with an unfamiliar determination, his hands curled into fists — he must really want to know how I feel, Adachi thinks.

"I'll... I'm already okay," Adachi manages, eventually. He doesn't want to come out and say it — that he's resigned to his fate, and knows his future is elsewhere... and, on another note, he isn't sure why Kurosawa is so concerned. "I've been... okay... since the moment I auditioned. So tomorrow is, um, no big deal."

"No big deal," Kurosawa murmurs, his eyebrows furrowing — and there it is again, that look on his face that Adachi wishes he could come close to understanding. It isn't angry, exactly, though it certainly isn't positive. Maybe it's just Adachi, as socially incompetent as ever, not being able to read the room, or maybe Kurosawa's just feeling incredibly mixed-up, for some reason. Really, Adachi can't tell.

"I... I will say," Adachi says, in an effort to at least make the corners of Kurosawa's lips twitch upwards, "I'm... glad I met you. And I'm grateful that you helped me... you've really helped me a lot more than I can say," Adachi realizes, mid-sentence, thinking about Far Away once more. He'd been feeling a million things, during that performance, and I want to do well because Kurosawa is looking forward to hearing me sing and I wish I could perform with Kurosawa one more time were certainly two of them. "So don't worry about me, even when..."

"Don't say it," Kurosawa interrupts, running a hand through his hair. "...Don't say anything definite until tomorrow. Promise me that."

It is definite — but Adachi nods. Kurosawa has helped him so much, and the look on his face now... it's a mixture of exhaustion and loneliness that's as surprising as it is tough to look at. So even if he doesn't really get why or what it is he's doing, the very least he can do is help Kurosawa in some way, too.

It's probably the last time in Adachi's life that he'll have to wear a school uniform.

The pyramid is there, shining in front of him like always, but considerably smaller than it was on the day of the level test — this time, there are only 60 seats, and 41 people will be going home. He almost wants to do what Kurosawa did on that first filming day, and go all the way up to the top spot, just to look at it — but that would hurt far too much. If he visualizes what could've been — if he was more talented, more popular, less Adachi — then his carefully-crafted armor of knowing what happens next completely falls apart.

Sakura Flavor is filmed walking into the room (they do a pose from an old-school superhero show, gaining laughter from the other trainees already sat down), and then are made to sit down in rows of cheap fold-up chairs, facing the pyramid. The other contestants file in, each doing fun poses for the camera — Rokkaku lifts Minato up on his shoulders, and Kurosawa... seems to be doing a pose from Ragna Crimson. Adachi didn't know that Kurosawa even liked comics like that — he'll have to talk to him about it, once —

...He won't get a chance to talk to him about it. That's right. He shakes his head, eyes pointed squarely downward. Oh well, he quickly thinks to himself, in an attempt to quash the sudden wave of disappointment that's crashed over him. He swallows down the lump in his throat, and titters appropriately at the rest of the trainees and their entrances.

Urabe, as usual, enters last. "Good morning, trainees," he greets. "The day you guys all have feared... has arrived."

"Until now, there have been 101 trainees. The trainees ranked from 60th and above will survive, and those at 60th and below... will be eliminated. For this round, over 30,000,000 votes were cast."

And three of those are mine, Adachi thinks. Only three people to let down.

Three people and Kurosawa. Fuck, Adachi really needs to stop thinking about Kurosawa. He tries to prevent his mind from going that direction. He won't let himself be vulnerable or disappointed now.

"And now... the ranking announcement will begin!" Urabe finishes, with a flourish. It's not like it is on TV at all — with no emotional confession cam sequences to intercut Urabe's speech, it's like cutting right to the fate that Adachi can't avoid.

Urabe begins calling the rankings from 59th place. Adachi pays... some attention; he isn't expecting to hear his name, so he's only looking out for the people he knows. He smiles lightly when Yukito and Mitsuo from his Far Away team are solidly in the mid-40s — they're good guys, they certainly deserve to go forward — and is one of a crowd of trainees who gets up to congratulate Rokkaku, when he places 34th. (He must've made a lot of friends in the B class — it makes sense, Adachi figures, Rokkaku is just so energetic that he's hard to ignore.) From around 20th above, it's all popular guys — two of those models, the high school kid who put all his points into cuteness, the D rank trainee who was the center of Kurosawa's team...

And there is, of course, the top 11. It's a mix of strong visuals and strong talents — they could debut as is, Adachi thinks, and definitely be popular.

"And now, our candidates for first place," Urabe declares, "are Kurosawa Yuichi... and Wataya Minato!"

That sure isn't surprising, Adachi thinks, as he watches Kurosawa and Minato step to center stage. It'll probably be those two fighting for first until the very end.

"Do you have any words for your rival, Kurosawa-san?" Urabe asks.

Kurosawa smiles his best shiny-idol smile; Adachi wonders how real it is. "I've discovered something more important than rivalry," he says, politely. "But Wataya-san's presence makes me want to grow even more as an artist. I'm grateful for him."

"Something more important than having a rival? On Produce 101 Japan?" Urabe asks, surprised. "Interesting words. How about you, Wataya-san?"

"I think me and Kurosawa are the same," Minato replies, with a catlike grin. "I don't need a rival to motivate me... I'm going to prove myself regardless."

"Huh," Urabe says. "That's... I wonder if they can use that footage? Anyway, let's reveal now who's ranked first place."

The lights in the studio dim; the world goes dark, save for the big screens behind the pyramid showing Minato and Kurosawa's dark, serious faces. There can be only one first place, after all; if either of them had anything besides grim determination on their faces, it wouldn't make sense (and they'd probably get plenty of hate for it, too). Adachi finds himself at the edge of his seat, just like he always was during the past two season's ranking ceremonies — he has a pick, just like he had before, but this time, he's about a million times more invested.

"In first place," Urabe finally announces, with a dramatic flourish, "with 1,739,593 votes... is... Kurosawa Yuichi!"

A cheer rises up from the pyramid — the trainees Kurosawa helped, Adachi supposes — and a round of applause for Kurosawa begins. Adachi applauds, too — of course he's happy, anyone would be if their pick was in first place — but he can't help but notice that Kurosawa doesn't look particularly pleased or relieved at his excellent results.

Still — Kurosawa has that perfect (definitely practiced, but still perfect) smile on his face as he bows and gives his speech. "To the national producers who voted for me: I have nothing but the utmost gratitude to you for giving your effort to vote for me. I'll do my best to be deserving of this first place spot, and I hope you continue to watch over me throughout this competition. Thank you very much."

There's another round of applause, and Adachi hangs back in his seat, once again tuning back out. Minato gives a speech about how he'll absolutely take first place next, but Adachi doesn't really listen; now that everyone he really knows about is safe, he doesn't need much else.

Maybe that's why Adachi doesn't really notice Urabe's speech about the last place to be revealed — that final, 60th spot, the final person moving on to the next round. He barely even hears him say "and that trainee is..."; he's far elsewhere, wondering if he'll be able to go straight home, and what the taxi fare back to his apartment is going to be —

"Adachi Kiyoshi!" Urabe announces.

The trainees around Adachi swivel to look at him immediately; he can't help the confused "eh?!" that escapes his mouth, as he shakily stands up. And yet, he finds himself rooted to the ground — he can't move, this isn't right, this was supposed to be anyone else, but Urabe just said his name —

And then, an entirely new sensation — an unmistakable warmth — is enveloping him completely. He's being hugged — there are arms around him. It's not a bone-crushing Rokkaku hug, and it's not anybody else from his Far Away team, it's —

It's Kurosawa. He'd apparently ran all the way down from that top spot, the place on the pyramid that Adachi knows he can't reach, solely to give Adachi a hug. And he seems to be shaking, with... what might be relief.

It's only then that Adachi comes back to reality — how he scraped into 60th, he genuinely has no idea, but it's very real and Kurosawa still hasn't let go. He's going to have to give a speech, and... say words, and be coherent...

Kurosawa lets him go — Adachi's heart is still pounding in his chest. "You ready?" Kurosawa says, quietly, taking Adachi's hand in his and squeezing.

Reality — where they are, the competition that hasn't ended yet, what Adachi has to do next. He takes a deep breath and nods shakily, as Kurosawa more or less escorts Adachi to the microphone stand to give his speech. For some reason, Kurosawa's presence — though it doesn't calm his anxious heart any — makes him feel like, perhaps, he can actually do this.

"I-I, um," Adachi begins — great start, he thinks. "I didn't prepare anything to say. I was never going to... I wasn't supposed to..."

Adachi turns back, to where Kurosawa is sitting at the top of the pyramid. He needs... something — reassurance, a vote of confidence. Kurosawa gives Adachi a small nod and a thumbs up; he probably can't risk doing anymore, after that running all the way down to hug him stunt, but it does the trick well enough.

He takes a deep breath. He can't run away from his reality, as unbelievable as it is; if this is the card he's been dealt, he has to play it. "I didn't expect to get this far, but... for the sake of the friends I've made here, like Kurosawa, and for the national producers who... for some reason decided to keep me here, I'll work hard and do my best. Thank you for... for saving me."

There's tepid applause from the trainees as Adachi quickly bows and goes to his seat. He's still on the pyramid — he's still around. And it is ice cold panic that sets in his veins — he barely had a plan going in, and now he has to figure out one going forward — but... something else, too.

Excitement, hope, the joy that comes with a chance to sing again — the spark in his chest that comes with, maybe, being able to properly perform with Kurosawa, at least one more time. And as the top 60 takes one final bow to the national producers, Adachi finds himself clinging on to the mess of positive feelings that have bloomed in his heart.

There's a lot of fuss — hugging and tears and Adachi saying an extremely brief, obligatory-at-best goodbye to Naohiko and Takumi — before everything's settled down, once filming is done. Adachi changes back into his street clothes, sits down at one of the green room's tables, and shoves his hands into his pockets; he's waiting for Kurosawa to finish making his rounds, of which there are a lot more for him to finish than there were for Adachi.

Because, now, Adachi is over the shock and anxiety of making it to the next round — or as over it as he can be, anyway, because if he questions anything too much, he'll go insane. Now, there's only one question on his mind: what was Kurosawa thinking? Adachi is grateful, of course — if that hug didn't pull him back to earth, the rest of filming would've taken a century — but he just... doesn't understand why.

There are two taps on his shoulder, and Adachi turns — there's Kurosawa, with his genuine smile, looking as dazzling as ever even in his casual clothing. "Shall we head back together?" he asks, tilting his head slightly.

"...That's, um, a good idea, because I wanted to talk to you," Adachi says, standing up and brushing himself off. "Or, well, ask you... why you ran down for me."

Kurosawa pauses; he clearly wasn't prepared for that question. "...Hm," he says. "Why I ran down for you?"

"Because — I mean — like, thank you, I wasn't paying attention, or not as much as I should've, but —"

"You're the only person I needed to stay," Kurosawa interrupts. "I wanted you to be... okay. I guess I... felt so relieved, in the moment, that I didn't realize what I was doing. If I made you uncomfortable —"

"No, no no, it isn't that," Adachi insists. "You didn't make me uncomfortable. I needed that," he says, reassuringly. "...I just wanted to know why, and you told me why, so... cool."

"...Cool it is," Kurosawa says, with a nod. "Let's head back?"

Of course, Kurosawa's answer comes with a host of other questions — the only one he needed to stay? Adachi wonders, because of course that's what Kurosawa refused to elaborate on — but Adachi still nods back, changing the subject as the two of them walk back to their dormitory.

(Adachi comes to the conclusion, later — after another barely-restful night, before the beginnings of the group battles are filmed — that it's probably because Kurosawa doesn't have anyone else in his audition group, and some of his friends probably got sent home. Adachi's sure that he'd feel lonely, too, under those circumstances.

He also can't fathom there being any other reason, so he keeps that in the forefront of his mind when his anxious brain decides to keep questioning Kurosawa's words. He'd said what he meant — Adachi can't ask for anything else.)

Tsuge doesn't mean to stumble on Minato, brooding. But he's beginning to think that when it comes to Minato, the universe doesn't give him much of a choice. In his more romantic days, Tsuge would've called it destiny; now, he just wonders why.

Regardless — technically, Tsuge is just supposed to be taking down the cameras in the practice rooms, but naturally, he stumbles upon Minato. He hasn't changed out of the Chase Me costume (his variant of the uniform has a bolo tie), and he's going through the song's choreography with enough force that it seems... angry. Tsuge stops, just watching silently — even as pissed off as he seems, there's still something about Minato that just draws Tsuge to him, stupid flashy dyed-hair party-guy aura be damned.

He does not expect for Minato to see Tsuge's reflection in the mirror, and frown. "Cat guy?"

"...Cat guy?"

Minato turns around, to face Tsuge directly. "Because you bought food for that cat, in Korea. Cat guy," he explains, rolling his eyes. "You must work on this show, huh? Since this is the second time I've seen you around."

"...Yes, I do," Tsuge says, stiffly. "I need to take down the cameras in this room."

"Go ahead," Minato says, with a nod. He goes back to his extremely angry practice, and Tsuge begins doing the actual job he did, in fact, get hired to do.

But he flinches — just a little — when Minato lets out a "god damn it, fuck," just loud enough for Tsuge to hear.

He should keep his head down — it's probably against his contract to talk too much to the trainees — but the words come out before he can stop them. "...Are you alright?"

"Of course I'm not alright," Minato replies, sounding annoyed. "That Kurosawa — I couldn't beat him. I get this far only to be second to him — what's the point?"

Tsuge probably won't see the actual rankings until he's going over the footage to send to his boss, but he knows that Kurosawa Yuichi is incredibly popular (and that Adachi texts that name a lot — they've become close, it seems, through means that Tsuge can't quite understand). "...That's all?"

"It's just... it's frustrating." Minato sighs. "I'd be happy to debut anywhere, of course, but I want to be first. I want to be the center. There's no point in me being here if I can't bring home the gold."

And, god, Tsuge understands that — it is so hard to get into the field of film if you aren't amazing at what you do, and even then, you need luck, or connections, to get anywhere big. Tsuge's long given up on that — he wouldn't be here, if he hadn't — but he can't let Minato go down that same path that he did.

"That isn't true," Tsuge says, surprising himself with his own firmness. "No matter how highly you end up ranking — I've seen every fancam, and none of them dance like you, not even that Kurosawa. Even if your final rank is 11th, you'll still outshine everyone there," he continues. "And besides, you don't want to give up yet."

It isn't a question; Minato raises his eyebrows. "How do you know that?" he asks, surprised.

"...You haven't even changed out of the clothes you were just filming in. If you wanted to give up, you could just go back to the dormitory and wallow... but you're still here, aren't you?" Tsuge asks.

Minato blinks twice, clearly not expecting those words — and then, after a long moment, grins widely. "...Cat guy, what's your actual name?"

"Me? Um, Tsuge Masato. I don't see why —"

"You said something pretty cool, just then, Tsuge-san," Minato says, voice casual. "I'd better head back to the dorm, but... thanks. For that."

"...Make sure to change out of your stage clothes before you go back," Tsuge mutters, going back to moving the cameras as Minato leaves. As soon as he's sure that Minato is gone, he lets himself drop to his knees, an anguished cry escaping his throat.

His chest feels like it's under a hydraulic press. Minato's grin — the way he said Tsuge-san, something Tsuge literally gets called every single day — it makes no sense. But it all plays on repeat as Tsuge finishes his work; aside from Minato, it feels like his head is empty.

He rushes through the rest of his work. He needs to feed Udon, and he needs to find more distractions, because otherwise, he'll probably die of a heart attack before he ever sees Minato dance again.

Chapter Text

If I'm still here, I have to make the most of it.

Adachi repeats those twelve words in his head, over and over again, a prayer to whatever god is listening and determining his fate. Today's the first day of filming for the group battles — the 60 remaining trainees are standing in a room in Yokohama Landmark Hall, and arranged by rank, which means Kurosawa is in the very front row and Adachi is in a back corner; he fidgets, eventually deciding to curl his hands into the pockets of his joggers, while he waits for Urabe to explain what happens next.

As soon as the filming is given the okay to start, Urabe begins his usual beginning-of-round speech. "Good morning, trainees! Say it back!"

There's a "good morning" in various degrees of energy from the crowd of trainees, and Urabe grins as he continues. "From the 101 trainees we started with, the national producers have selected you 60 to remain. And, as you know, Kurosawa Yuichi was chosen as #1."

There's a round of applause from the trainees — Adachi claps, too, but he really just wishes that Urabe could cut to the chase and explain the next round already. "Now, the votes have been reset — and at the next ranking ceremony, all trainees ranked 36th and under will be eliminated. Your next task, to earn one of those top 35 spots, is... the group battle!"

"You trainees will be split into 10 teams of six," Urabe continues, "and each given a different song to perform. The trainee that gets the most votes in each group, after the live performances are done, will get an extra 20,000 votes!"

There's no way that'll end up being Adachi, but just the idea of that many bonus votes going to him — it's beyond his wildest dreams. "The trainee who gets the most points overall," Urabe adds, "will receive a bonus of 50,000 votes. And the group that has the most on-site votes... all six members will receive an extra 100,000 votes."

Holy shit, Adachi thinks, barely resisting the urge to say those words out loud — 100,000 bonus votes could take him to the top 35 with ease. And if it's the group winning that does that... then maybe, depending on where he ends up, he has a chance to actually get them. He'll have to really put himself out there, and most likely beg for a spot on a team full of popular trainees, but...

But it isn't impossible. There's a faint glimmer of hope, no brighter than a firefly, in Adachi's heart.

Once the songs are revealed (a healthy mix, this time, of J-pop and K-pop in Japanese), Kurosawa, having ranked first at the last ranking ceremony, gets the privilege of picking his team first; he's also the only trainee who will get to pick all of his team's members. "So, Kurosawa-san, who's your first pick?" Urabe asks, with that showman's grin.

Kurosawa doesn't hesitate for a second at Urabe's question. "My first pick for my team is Adachi Kiyoshi."

"Eh?" Adachi says, eyes widening — all of the trainees are right there, at Kurosawa's beck and call, basically, and the first name out of his mouth is still Adachi's. Maybe he's choosing in alphabetical order; now that that Akiyama or Akayama or whoever has been sent home, that's the only place Adachi actually comes first in.

Urabe, too, seems rather confused with this turn of events, even as Adachi makes his way from his corner to where Kurosawa's standing. "Adachi-san, huh? What's your reasoning for choosing him so soon?" Urabe asks, not bothering to hide his befuddled expression.

Kurosawa just smiles. "Adachi... is necessary. For the team I'm making," he explains, with a shrug. "I don't have much reason beyond that."

Necessary? Adachi wonders — when there are better vocalists, certainly better dancers, and just frankly guys who are more popular, necessary sure isn't a word he'd use to describe himself. But he isn't going to look the gift horse of being on Kurosawa's team in the mouth; one of the benefits of his 60th place miracle is the chance to perform with Kurosawa for real, after all.

Kurosawa quickly gathers up the rest of his team — he picks Rokkaku, to Adachi's relief, Minato, which also makes sense (they'd more or less said they weren't doing the rivalry thing — if there's a way to dispel that fiction, this is it), Maeda Yukiya (one of those high school kids — the really cutesy-acting one), and Hayashida Michael (a trainee ranked around Rokkaku's area, known for his excellent English and rapping). They're a balanced team, mostly — three strong dancers, two strong visuals in the form of Yukiya and Kurosawa himself, and a great rapper in Michael.

And Adachi. For some bizarre reason. He is the only vocalist Kurosawa picked — but still... compared to the rest of his team, he feels out of place. They're all ranked above the cutoff for the next elimination... and then there's Adachi, in dead last; maybe Kurosawa pities him. That sure would explain a lot.

But when he looks, briefly, in Kurosawa's direction, only to find that Kurosawa is already looking at him — it's like Adachi feels reassured in an instant. If Kurosawa thinks he's necessary... well, maybe he actually is.

Their team hangs back as the rest of the trainees are sorted into their ten groups; there's an obstacle course, of all things, that determines which of the ten songs they'll actually be performing. Kurosawa speeds through it ("I heard he was on the baseball team, or the soccer team, or something, back at his high school," Rokkaku says, as he watches Kurosawa literally jump through a hoop for the ability to pick first. Of course he was, Adachi thinks — there is nothing, whatsoever, that Kurosawa is bad at) and returns successfully, with a big card reading "OWV — Roar" in his hands. Adachi knows that song — the choreography is cool, though probably way beyond his shamefully low skill level, and there's a solid enough mixture of rap and singing parts that he's sure everyone is going to get to shine.

By the end of the filming, the six of them have their positions worked out; everyone had agreed to put Adachi as the main vocalist, which is a surprise and... somehow not, at the same time. With Rokkaku as their center and Kurosawa leading them, that 100,000 vote benefit is almost tangible.

Adachi isn't going to mess this up for his teammates. He'll help get them those votes in any way he can.

Roar is not an easy song.

Really, Adachi is lucky that Kurosawa chose one that Adachi at least knows; he'd be totally lost if he was on the teams doing BTS or Monsta X, and with Roar, he can at least help his teammates through the vocal parts. (Even Kurosawa asked him for vocal advice, on their first day of practice — Adachi tells him to keep his mouth open, because he read that somewhere, once. He's an amateur, maybe, but he can sure do his best.)

But the choreography is difficult; it's way harder than the theme song, with enough crouching and jumping that Adachi has developed a shiny new fear of getting kicked in the face. Minato and Kurosawa did an excellent job turning the choreography from a four-person performance to a six-person one, but Adachi isn't sure that he'll be able to keep up; singing all of his adlibs on pitch while dancing so hard is going to be a challenge.

But, because Adachi is determined not to be a burden to his team — he just works even harder to be on their level. Waking up at 3am to get to the practice rooms early is now something he's more than used to (as is Kurosawa joining him at 6AM sharp, every day — Adachi certainly appreciates the help, and more than that, the company); now, when they're not with trainers or practicing as a group, Adachi also stays in the practice rooms until late at night when they close.

He goes to the mean dance trainer during their meal breaks, too — the man is intimidating, and Adachi has no clue how good his advice actually is, but he sure doesn't hold back in his critiques. All in all, Adachi's sleep certainly suffers, and a diet of sports drinks provided by Kurosawa can't be healthy — but he's pretty sure that he's improving, at least.

It's the day before a trainer checkup that things go terribly wrong.

Adachi is tired — of course he's tired — and sweating more than usual, his heart actually painfully beating in his chest. Michael and Minato are going through the rap lyrics, and Rokkaku is helping Yukiya with his jumping part; Adachi, despite the fact that he'd really like to sit down, is practicing Roar's ending, trying to remember every bit of choreography so he can get it just right.

Adachi suddenly feels a hand on his shoulder; Kurosawa's standing behind him, with a concerned look on his face. "You know there's no need to overdo it, right? Are you okay?"

Adachi smiles — he tries to turn up his own brightness, to ease Kurosawa's worry, though he isn't sure how effective it is. "I'm... hah... I'm fine," he insists.

Kurosawa's brow furrows. "If you're not in good condition, you can take a break —"

"I'm fine," Adachi insists, frowning. "I'm not... I'm not going to be the reason we don't get the benefit. I won't hold us back or be... a burden..."

Of course, the room chooses that exact moment to start spinning. He squeezes his eyes shut, in a futile attempt to steady himself to the earth, though he knows that he'll hit the ground within seconds.

...But he doesn't. Adachi feels himself falling, the rush around him — and then he feels himself being caught. The room is silent, save for what's probably the sound of Yukiya landing on the floor after jumping over Rokkaku.

He opens his eyes, and there's Kurosawa, his face twisted into a worried frown. "...You're not okay at all, are you." The way he's phrasing it is as a question, but it isn't a question; it's a clear statement that Adachi doesn't have the strength to argue with.

Kurosawa doesn't put Adachi down as he turns to the rest of the crew. "I'm going to take him back to the dorms. You guys... don't practice too hard," he says. There's a general murmur of agreement, and the two of them leave the room.

"...You don't have to keep carrying me," Adachi mumbles, even though he really isn't making an effort to get out of Kurosawa's arms, either. Kurosawa's silence, in response, just serves to make Adachi feel worse.

When they get back to the dormitory, Kurosawa carefully placed Adachi on to his bed. "When's the last time you ate?" Kurosawa asks, digging through his bag for snacks.

"...This morning? You... you gave me that bottle of Pocari."

"The last time you ate."

Adachi sighs. "...The day we started filming, after the rankings."

"Adachi..."

"I... I didn't want you to regret choosing me," Adachi continues, drawing his knees to his chest. "Someone like me... when you could've picked anyone... if I was the reason our team fell behind, I wouldn't forgive myself. I had to... do more than anyone else. So I... I went to check with the trainers at lunch..."

Kurosawa is silent, once again; Adachi can blame the fact that he's currently not very strong physically for the fact that he can't read the expression on his face at all. Kurosawa simply puts a snack bread in the general vicinity of Adachi's hands, and sighs. "...You're necessary," he finally says, echoing what he said at the selection.

"...I don't know what you mean."

But Kurosawa doesn't say anything more on that subject. He doesn't go back to practice — Adachi tries to get him to leave, because he's just wasting his time keeping watch, but Kurosawa refuses, staying vigil at Adachi's side.

("...Thanks," Adachi says, finally, once he feels actual sleep setting in. The last thing he sees before he drifts off is Kurosawa's face — a smile, sort of, full of so much relief and so much worry that it really does hurt.)

"Adachi! You seriously scared me!" Rokkaku says, instead of a greeting, at practice the next day — it isn't long before Adachi's being pressed into one of Rokkaku's signature, organ-squeezing hugs. "Are you feeling better? You are, right?"

"Y-yeah, I'm —"

"You were going crazy with that choreography, man. It's no wonder you fainted," Michael muses. "Take a break if you're feeling dizzy next time."

"I have a bunch of candy in my dorm, so let me know if you're hungry again. I have, like, all the snacks," Yukiya adds, with a determined expression that... mostly looks funny, on his youthful features.

"That's not —"

Even Minato — who's mostly just quiet, though Tsuge is always texting Adachi about how he's actually really kind — gives Adachi a small smile. "It's good to see you back on your feet. Literally."

Adachi ducks his head down shyly; he didn't expect his teammates to worry about him... at all, really. "U-um, thanks," he says, quietly, fully aware of how red his face must be turning. "Can we... can we start now? Kurosawa?"

Kurosawa — he is their team's leader, after all — nods. "We have three hours until the trainer check, and it's with Fujisaki-sensei, so let's focus on our vocals. Adachi, Michael, can you guys go through it with everyone?"

Adachi and Michael both nod. Frankly, Adachi's happy to be useful — but more than that, he's genuinely surprised and touched about how concerned about him the rest of the team was. He isn't used to anyone noticing him, or caring about him more than they absolutely have to...

It feels... strange, certainly, and extremely unfamiliar, but not bad. And it's all thanks to Kurosawa, deeming Adachi necessary and putting him in this group, that he gets to feel it. He wishes there was a better way to express his gratitude — he can't exactly walk up to Kurosawa and thank him straight up. So he'll do his best in this group battle — without pushing himself too hard again, because Kurosawa's worried face just refuses to leave Adachi's mind — and repay him that way.

The costumes for Roar are way more elaborate than the ones from Far Away, Adachi thinks. These, instead of relatively normal clothes that are probably expensive, look like real clothes that real idols wear — Adachi has epaulets and glitter and so much eyeliner that he's surprised it doesn't get into his field of vision.

Everyone else looks cool, of course — it's like all of the rest of his team is already debuted idols — but Adachi will never not feel out of place. He turns to Kurosawa, who's pacing as he seems to do when he's nervous, with a self-deprecating chuckle. "I look like I'm about to join the black parade," he jokes, in an attempt to break through his insecurity.

Kurosawa stops pacing... and is silent, as he looks over Adachi's costume. He's definitely looking, there's intention in his eyes that even Adachi can see — but he's dead quiet, though his mouth opens like he wants to say something, regardless. "Uh, Kurosawa?" Adachi asks, trying not to let his nerves set in.

"...Sorry," Kurosawa says, snapping himself out of... whatever that was. "The black parade?"

"Y-yeah, it was a weird joke," Adachi says, looking away (and feeling his cheeks color just a little). "I feel, like... this doesn't suit me at all, does it?"

"It suits you," Kurosawa replies immediately. "You look excellent." He clears his throat and shakes his head, his normal expression quickly returning to his face. "We should head to the waiting area, yes?"

Adachi's... confused, to say the least, by Kurosawa's sudden sense of urgency, but he nods. "Let's get over there," he agrees, standing up and following Kurosawa outside.

Their team performs third overall, after the group covering Sexy Zone and before the one covering Winner. "1, 2, 3," Kurosawa begins. "We are..."

"Cherry Lions!" the rest of the team finishes, making claws out of their hands and roaring cutely. "Please take care of us!"

There's some good-natured ribbing from Urabe (Adachi doesn't have to talk, thank goodness), and a brief, very leader-like speech from Kurosawa, before their performance begins in earnest. He takes a deep breath as he crouches down. It's just like they practiced... even if he's in front of 500 national producers, now, some of whom are even holding up onigiri-themed signs and green penlights with his name on it. (He isn't sure why they're green, but he also knows from Tsuge that his fans have latched on to that color for him — it makes him feel happy, even if he doesn't quite understand it.)

It's just like they practiced, so they'll be alright, and Adachi is determined to repay every ounce of Kurosawa's kindness. As the instrumentation begins, Adachi thinks to himself, I'm going to perform my heart out.

The two-and-change minutes of the short version Roar go by fast, certainly, but those two minutes go even better than Adachi dared to hope. He nails all his high notes, he does not get kicked in the face, and he even manages an ending pose that's (barely — but a tiny amount is still an amount) cooler than it is dorky. And the rest of his team — between Kurosawa and Minato's strong dancing, Michael absolutely killing the rapping, Yukiya providing a nice contrast with his almost-cloying cuteness, and Rokkaku in the center channeling his constant energy into what might actually be a burning fire — it's not just a good performance, but a cohesive one. If the audience is grading on how well the group did as a whole — it'll be hard to beat our efforts, thinks Adachi.

But there's still scoring to go through. After the other 7 teams perform — some very well, some very messily, and some that are... alright, all things considered — the 60 trainees are all herded into a backstage room with a large projector to stand in neat rows and wait. Again. (They really don't tell you how much of any given Produce season is just waiting, Adachi thinks.)

Kurosawa isn't pacing, so it's clear that he isn't nervous; Rokkaku, behind Adachi, is bouncing up and down on his heels, so he clearly is. Adachi just curls his fingers, desperately wishing that his stage pants had pockets for him to ball his fists in.

Please, please let us get the benefit, he prays. I just want to stay here. Please.

Finally, Urabe enters the room, to light applause and cheers. "Produce 101 Japan trainees, congratulations on completing the second round of performances for the national producers. You've all worked hard."

There's another smattering of applause, and Urabe continues. "And now... let's reveal which trainees and teams received the benefit! First, the trainees with the most votes in each team, and the trainee with the most votes overall."

The projector's screen flashes. Adachi can't help but grin when he notices that he actually got some votes this time — he's on the second-to-bottom row, but it's at least his name, with a positive integer next to it. Rokkaku ends up taking the first place spot in their team (his thank ya very much! in happiness nearly makes Adachi jump five feet in the air in surprise), though the first place spot overall goes to a trainee on the BTS team. It's okay, Adachi thinks to himself, even as that seed of doubt sets in. We still have a chance.

"And now..." Urabe continues, "let's see who the highest ranked group is overall!"

The screen flashes once more. One by one, ranked from 10th to 3rd, each team is shown, so quickly that Adachi nearly fails to register that Roar is, in fact, not in any of those places.

"It could be us!" whispers Michael, sharply, from in front of Adachi. He feels Rokkaku grab on to his hand. He's too scared to even think of speaking; he wishes he could see Kurosawa's face, because he's sure that he'd have the kind of reassuring expression that always seems to calm Adachi's eternally-anxious heart —

"And, in second place... is... Team Edelweiss, who performed Boy In Luv! Meaning, Cherry Lions, who performed Roar — congratulations!"

"YES!" yells out Rokkaku. They don't celebrate too much — with the cameras on them and on their minds, the last thing the team needs is to come across as cocky — but they do celebrate, just a little. Adachi gets clapped on the shoulder, and claps on the shoulder in turn, and Minato and Michael both give him resonating high fives.

And this time, when Kurosawa walks over to hug him, Adachi's prepared.

It's the third time he's been in Kurosawa's arms, a fact that faintly registers somewhere in his mind; Kurosawa isn't shaking, not this time, but whatever he is feeling is just as strong as... however he felt when Adachi scraped into 60th, that much is sure. Adachi also manages to hug him back, this time; he wraps his arms around Kurosawa's waist and squeezes, like he can somehow convey the depths of his gratitude through a simple hug.

And though there's a solid chance that it's his imagination, he feels Kurosawa rest his head on his shoulder, for just a moment. He pulls away just as fast, with a slightly awkward step back and a cough that's... probably not legitimate — and nods. "...Adachi. Good work."

Adachi doesn't bother with hiding his giant smile. "You... you too!" he manages, a truly enthusiastic comment by his standards.

Kurosawa smiles back. The rest of the filming goes smoothly, and when Adachi thinks about the fact that he probably won't go home the next round... really, it's hard not to feel elated.

@blackswamp101: kurosawa and adachi friendship fr the fakest storyline in produce history. who's forcing kurosawa to waste his time like this? the producers? or what?

@yuichiism: adachi kiyoshi clinging to the top spot is so obvious. none of us buy the puppy dog eyes, so can he just quit? lmao

@kurosawanwan: that fainting storyline was awful. stole my yuichi-sama's screen time... i won't forgive adachi

@minatoast: so you have a team with the #1 and #2 together and you waste screen time on [checks notes] #60 being a tryhard. smh

@yukiyansaikou: it's the way adachi kiyoshi is so boring that there aren't even any rumors about him! like if he'd been a delinquent at least he'd be interesting. he's just bringing our center down.

The more Adachi scrolls, the worse he feels. Maybe the producers were right; checking social media is probably more trouble than it's worth.

There's a week of break before the concept evaluations begin; Adachi is up early, as usual, but instead of practicing, he's waiting for Kurosawa to show up. Kurosawa had offered lessons, after the filming had ended the previous day — "We can go through the foundations of dance. It'll help you learn the choreographies a lot faster, if you do." Of course Adachi had agreed. But he's made a grave mistake, it seems; simply searching for Produce 101-related social media posts has brought his mood down so low that he's not sure he's up to doing anything anymore. The episode with Cherry Lions performing had aired just a day ago, though the results of the battle are still unknown to the national producers; maybe that was enough time for everyone else's resentment to boil over.

His team won. They won — they got the benefit, those extra votes — but all he can see, when he searches his name or about his team, is the kind of hatred that Adachi only knew of in passing. And it's directed at him. A loathing that Adachi is familiar with and unfamiliar with all at once burns in his veins. If he hadn't overworked himself and done something as stupid as fainting, they wouldn't be making comments like these.

"Bringing Kurosawa down..." he murmurs, staring at his screen. That... that can't be true. Kurosawa is their number one, their center — people even whisper that he could hit #1 in the finale, a feat that's rarely been accomplished without rigging. If such a thing was happening, though...

Adachi wouldn't want to be complicit in it, let alone the cause of it. His fingers tingle, his mouth dry, his eyes burning. He won't cling or make puppy dog eyes, not anymore; he leaves the practice room, feeling awful for ditching Kurosawa, but feeling even worse for potentially dragging him down.

And, to his credit — for three days, out of their week-long break, Adachi does manage to avoid Kurosawa. It's kind of tough, seeing as they're still roommates, but surprisingly easy, at the same time. He just has to wake up slightly later and avoid their usual practice room, and make sure he's the last person to get his meals every day, and pull the covers over his head as soon as dinner's over, pretending to be asleep. He even finds a spot that's camera-free — in theory, it's a staff room that's nothing aside from a small table and some chairs that he isn't allowed into, but Tsuge gives him the OK — to do some practicing in.

It works. It sort of works, for those three days. It doesn't feel good, not remotely (rather, it feels like his chest is caving in — time spent with Tsuge, or Rokkaku, or the other trainees he's inexplicably befriended, just doesn't feel the same), but his goal is to not be around Kurosawa — and he sure isn't. It's actually incredibly lonely.

Still, though — when Kurosawa does find him, hiding in the same staff room as usual, it's repose that ends up coursing through Adachi's veins. (Momentarily, at least, before his usual anxiety sets in once again.) "We, you, um, we aren't allowed to be in here," Adachi says, avoiding Kurosawa's gaze.

"The cameraman with the glasses let me in," Kurosawa replies.

Dammit, Tsuge, Adachi thinks, shaking his head. "He's... my friend, actually. From my university days."

"Is that so," Kurosawa says, flatly. He swallows, and gestures at a chair next to Adachi. "May I sit down?"

"...S-sure," Adachi replies, because it isn't really like he can say no. "Go ahead."

Kurosawa sits down. It's silent, for a long moment, before he speaks again. "...I didn't make you uncomfortable, right?"

"Eh?"

"When I hugged you. When our team got the benefit," Kurosawa explains. "Because if I did —"

"You've never made me uncomfortable," Adachi says, not even letting Kurosawa finish that sentence. "It isn't that." You probably couldn't if you tried, he thinks.

"Then... may I ask why you're avoiding me?"

It's Adachi's turn to nervously swallow — he can't say he hasn't been avoiding Kurosawa, because that would be a lie, and Kurosawa looks so genuinely miserable that he can't imagine making it any worse. So, instead, Adachi pulls out his phone. "...These," he says, sliding his phone to where Kurosawa is sitting. "These are why."

Kurosawa looks confused for a second — but as he looks through Adachi's screenshots, that confusion is replaced with a fury that Adachi really hasn't seen on him before. "These?" Kurosawa asks.

Adachi nods. "I... I'm not going to drag you down. I don't want to drag you down."

"If they think you're doing that, they don't have eyes." Kurosawa gives Adachi his phone back and crosses his arms. "Dragging me down? Really? If they have time to say those awful things about you, they have time to support me quietly."

Adachi raises his eyebrows — the passion in Kurosawa's voice makes tears sting behind Adachi's eyes. "Don't... don't say that —"

"You practiced so hard that you fainted. You wake up at three in the morning to practice, you skipped lunch to see the trainers... you aren't holding me back. You aren't holding anyone back, Adachi. And these comments... are ridiculous, but there are so many people supporting you. And supporting us. Don't you forget that."

Adachi uselessly opens his mouth and closes it — not only can he feel himself actually crying, but he can't find concise words to describe everything he feels. Gratitude, guilt, something that... almost feels like affection, especially at that word us coming out of Kurosawa's mouth — there's so much that he's overwhelmed. Adachi buries his face in his hands. "S-sorry, I didn't mean to start crying, fuck —"

"It's okay," Kurosawa says, leaning over and wrapping Adachi into an awkward, but reassuring, hug. His own breathing is heavy with anger, but he still rubs soothing circles on to Adachi's back, simply letting him cry until he has no tears left.

"...Sorry for getting your shirt wet," Adachi finally says, when he pulls away, noticing a wet spot on Kurosawa's shoulder.

"Don't worry," Kurosawa replies. He stands up and offers Adachi a hand. "Let's go back to the dorms."

Adachi wipes his face and nods. His heart is pounding wildly, but he feels... he feels...

He feels something he can't put a name to, because he's never really felt it before. But all he can think of is how glad he is that someone like him got to meet someone like Kurosawa. That, at least, makes all of the practice and hate comments and constant cameras and insanity that comes with this show so, so worth it.

"Adachi works so hard," Kurosawa says. "He works harder than anyone else sees. I wish that everyone else understood that, too."

Chapter Text

Tsuge Masato does not have a Twitter account. Udon the cat has a Twitter account that he happens to use, and by god, there's a difference.

As part of his contract with the production company — which he isn't going to be under in two weeks, anyway — Tsuge isn't allowed to use social media to look at the trainees; he's supposed to come off as unbiased, after all (or rather, biased in the way the producers want him to be). Udon, however, is a cat, and is therefore under no contracts; on her account, Tsuge can look at whatever he likes.

He looks up Adachi, usually — they're friends, after all, and it's nice seeing all those onigiri emojis tweeting aggressively about him. He usually looks up Kurosawa, too, because he and Adachi have grown so close; if Tsuge puts their tags together, the search results that come up are sometimes edits and fan art, which he'll occasionally send Adachi's way. (Adachi usually replies with either "EH" or "why are they drawing me".)

And he does look up Minato. He probably looks up Minato the most out of any trainee that he... or Udon, ostensibly, is supporting.

They've... also grown close, the two of them, for a given measure of close. Tsuge frequently sends Minato pictures of Udon, since that's how they met, after all, and Minato sends him memes and selfies, and Tsuge tries not to scream at his phone whenever they come through. And of course, Tsuge supports him; he happens to film the groups that Minato is in, and he quietly streams his fancams and performances, since there isn't a way for his boss to track that, at least. He is... at the very least, a fan of Minato.

(And maybe he stays up all night, thinking of Minato's smile and voice and love for dancing, and maybe even Adachi has figured out that it isn't just oshi feeling that Tsuge feels for Minato, but that's — that's a bridge that Tsuge can cross when he gets to it.)

When Tsuge logs on, just 13 days until he no longer works for Produce 101 Japan, Udon's timeline is on fire.

@wataminas: guys please don't spread those pictures around they could hurt minato's chances at the next round of voting :(

@minyato_37: BE WHO YOU AAAAARE!!!! STAND BY YOUR PRIDE... omg i like him so much more and he was ALREADY MY ONE PICK DJSJSJS

@mintnatos: so he's... well... that's disappointing :/ maybe i'll switch my one pick to yuta, at least he isn't g*y

@m1n4t0: SO UR SAYING KUROMINA COULD BE CANON LMAO

@watayanist: why is it that once a produce season pictures of trainee's pasts come up so people can hurt them. this is a reality show about boy bands don't u have anything better to do

The more Tsuge sees, the more confused he is; what kind of pictures is everyone talking about? Why are they so damning, and if they're going to hurt Minato's chances of debuting, what can he do to stop them? And what on earth is a Kuromina, and how can it be canon?

He tweets out a simple "what happened", with a meow attached, because it isn't his account — and gets a direct message within minutes. It's a tweet from an account that isn't following anyone — a long thread, titled "Wataya Minato dark past."

And there are... perhaps incriminating pictures, indeed.

Pictures of Minato, namely — they're definitely him, even though his hair isn't dyed that flashy (charming) yellow in them. Minato smiling, Minato during dance practice, Minato eating, and Minato with... someone.

This someone is a few centimeters taller than Minato, though not as tall as Tsuge, and Tsuge can't say why he notices or why he cares. He's trendy, like Minato is, but in a different way — he looks like he stepped off the set of some drama about a fancy office, all pressed suits and ties. And whoever this someone is, he and Minato were, or are, close. There's pictures of them hugging, and with their arms around each other's shoulders, and at a dimly-lit bar with rainbow colored lights, and Minato kissing him on the cheek and this someone kissing Minato on the mouth —

A strange, heavy feeling settles in Tsuge's stomach. It all makes sense, now — this is someone who Minato... was, or perhaps is, in a romantic relationship with. Purely from the perspective of a fan, he can see why these photos would be problematic; he reports the account and closes Twitter.

It's kind of funny, how he feels like he's about to throw up and about to cry all at once. And, also, like he wants to call in sick from work — which would be poor form, seeing as he wrote that he'd do his best for the next two weeks. He feels like a little kid who didn't study for a test, trying to stay home to avoid the inevitable.

"...Trainees aren't allowed to be in relationships," Tsuge mutters to himself. "But I wonder if they're still..."

He kills that thought before it can exit his mouth, and shakes his head. He'll still show up to work... he'll just, conveniently, ask to film literally any group that Minato isn't in.

The group battles are over and done with, that much is true, but the ranking ceremony isn't quite here yet; the 60 remaining trainees are sent to a conference room in one of Toyokawa's buildings, once their brief break is over, and made to sit down on those cheap fold-up chairs. There's a big projector screen set up in the middle of the room — it feels like they're about to watch a public service announcement, or something.

The conference room's lights dim suddenly, and a video begins to play. Urabe, as ostentatious as always, appears onscreen. "Good morning, Produce 101 Japan trainees!"

It's a pre-recorded video, of course, but Urabe still pauses, and a solid chunk of the trainees say good morning back. "Today, I'm here to announce your new task... but as you practice for this new task, the next ranking ceremony will occur, and those ranked 36th and under... will be eliminated. And, as a result, those eliminated trainees won't be able to perform the songs they practiced."

Adachi isn't worried about this next ranking ceremony, at least not as much as he was worried about the last one — those benefit votes from the group battle are, likely, enough to just barely slide him into safety. (And if Tsuge's right, he does now have more than three fans; Adachi hasn't checked social media since... whatever that moment with Kurosawa was supposed to be, but Tsuge knows plenty about what the national producers are saying. Adachi has yet to ask why.) Still, something strikes in his chest at Urabe's words — it'd frankly suck to practice so hard, only to have the chance to actually stand on stage get yanked away.

"And now," Urabe continues, "I'll reveal to you what the next challenge you'll face here is. Get ready, trainees... for the concept battle!"

There's a round of applause amongst the trainees that, again, video-Urabe pauses for. "Five original songs! With five different genres and concepts! Have been prepared for you to practice. The team that places first will be given a benefit of 220,000 votes... and 100,000 of those will be given to the trainee who places first in that team. The rest will be given 20,000 votes each."

That's unnecessarily confusing, Adachi thinks.

"And now," finishes video-Urabe, "Here... are the five original songs we've prepared!"

Adachi listens carefully to all five songs as they display on the projector, his interest piqued. There's VENOM, in all capital letters, a hip-hop song that Adachi is sure that the rappers amongst the trainees will absolutely shine on; Summer Jump, a fast-paced song with energetic, cute choreography; Telescope, which is dark with sad lyrics — Kurosawa could totally pull that off, Adachi thinks; Agility, with a dance break that Adachi knows he'd never be able to manage; and the comparatively slower song, One Wish, with a lot of interesting vocal bits. The competition for the main vocal position will be fierce on that one, Adachi thinks — vocals might be his specialty, but from a purely logical perspective, he'd be luckier on Telescope, VENOM, or Summer Jump.

Video-Urabe appears again, when the reel of songs is done with. "Now... you're probably wondering which song you'll be practicing, and potentially performing. The ones who have decided your fate... are all the national producers watching at home!"

...So where did my more-than-three fans put me? Adachi wonders, with a small frown. He knows there's a certain strategy to these things — fans all voting certain trainees into certain songs, alliances to make sure the right guys go into the right places, things like that... he just isn't sure what strategy his fans went for.

His answer, though, quickly comes afterwards; each trainee is given an envelope with a single letter, between A and E, on it. The trainees head to their rooms, one by one; Adachi enters the B room, and shoves his hands into his pockets to wait. He's the first one inside, strangely enough; he checks behind the big board with a giant B on it, but nobody's even hiding. All he can do is wait.

He is joined, eventually, by the rest of who will be his team — for a while, anyway. He'll have eleven teammates, initially; the only one he's familiar with is Yukito, who he greets with a cheerful high-five.

It's a mix of high-ranking trainees and some of Adachi's companions in the lower half of the top 60 that make up the rest of room B. One of the other trainees — Watanabe Haruka, who's kind of a class clown, as far as Adachi knows — counts their heads: "...So we're just waiting on one more person, then?"

"Wonder who it's gonna be," Yukito says, shrugging. "They're kind of doing it in a random order..."

Adachi fiddles with his envelope. He certainly knows who he hopes is coming — that is, anyone he's familiar with — though there's no way Rokkaku or Yukiya are on anything besides Summer Jump, and Minato's probably on Agility, and Michael's probably on VENOM, and Mitsuo is probably on One Wish... and it's highly doubtful, with this specific combination of trainees, that the room they're in is any of those songs.

...That does, of course, leave the possibility for Kurosawa to walk in that door, at any moment. Adachi's heart skips a beat at the idea. Kurosawa could really do any of those concepts — Adachi's sure that he could even rap, if tasked to do so. At this point, his envelope has turned into a paper ball. Please be Kurosawa, Adachi prays, silently.

The door rattles. "Quick, quick, behind the stand! Everyone hide!" Haruka shouts. The trainees gathered quickly do so; Adachi resists the urge to peek his head out.

But, luckily — he doesn't actually have to to know that his prayer was, quite literally, answered. He recognizes Kurosawa's voice, as he lets out a quiet "...hello?" upon entering the seemingly-empty room.

"GUYS! KUROSAWA'S HERE!" somebody yells; there's a large amount of screaming, and everybody jumps out from their hiding places. Adachi does so a moment after everyone else has, to reduce risk of injury.

The surprised expression on Kurosawa's face turns into a relieved one the moment he makes eye contact with Adachi. "...You're here," he says, simply. "Good to see you."

"It makes sense that the national producers would vote to put you here," Adachi replies, with a small shrug. "If I'm right, and this is Telescope's room... you suit this kind of song. I can already see you performing it."

"Let's do our best together," Kurosawa says, as amiable as ever. There's another round of cheers at Kurosawa's statement; Adachi wonders if Kurosawa was talking straight to him, or if he just inexplicably feels that way.

One of the cameramen gives the trainees the okay to reveal their song — it is Telescope, just like Adachi thought it would be. Kurosawa taps Adachi's shoulder. "Meet me for breakfast and practice tomorrow morning?" he asks, quietly enough that it can't be heard over the chattering of the other trainees.

Adachi smiles and nods. "See you around six," he promises, already looking forward to it.

The five days of practice before the ranking ceremony go far, far better than Adachi was expecting. He and Yukito both are put on the main vocal position — after the ranking ceremony, it'll be delegated to just one of them, and Adachi knows that it's likely Yukito will be the final pick, but for now, Adachi's more than happy to be nominated. And he really does like Telescope, as a song; something about the lyrics, with their themes of forbidden love and pining, resonates with him, though he can't really explain why. He's humming the lyrics, and that painfully catchy English "you got me lookin' thru ma telescope" hook, so often that he has to catch himself, for fear of keeping Kurosawa (and his two new roommates, who he's yet to really talk much to) awake.

And, of course — Adachi will never complain about spending time with Kurosawa. He's lucky enough to be here, as is; getting to be with Kurosawa, twice in a row, feels like someone in the cosmos is really looking out for him. Kurosawa helps everyone with the choreography, like usual — he's such a good teacher, on top of everything else, Adachi would think it wasn't fair if he wasn't so grateful; Adachi still doesn't think he's much of a dancer, but the way Kurosawa explains things... he almost feels like he can fake it, when he keeps Kurosawa's pieces of advice in his head.

But the ranking ceremony still arrives, in all of its dreadful, terrifying glory. The first ceremony, Adachi wasn't nervous, because he wasn't expecting to actually, well, rank. This time... he is a little bit nervous; he's doing better, but if he isn't doing well enough, it'll hurt like hell, Adachi knows. He still strikes a pose, as the now sole member of Sakura Flavor, cribbing from some TikTok Tsuge had sent him; there's light laughter, and as he walks to his seat, Adachi manages to keep his worry from seeping into his facial expression.

He doesn't have to worry for long, though — Adachi's name is the first one Urabe calls, barely above the cutoff at 34th on the dot. He mentions Kurosawa in his speech, for the second time in a row: "It's thanks to Kurosawa's kindness in choosing me to be on his team, and thanks to the efforts of my teammates, that I managed to survive this round. I... I know I worried everyone a lot, and I'm sorry about that, so... in the future, I'll take it a little bit easier. But I also won't let you down." Adachi bows politely, and once the rest of the pyramid's bottom row is called, takes his seat.

The rest of the ceremony goes by smoothly. When you're not waiting anxiously for your fate, Adachi figures, you can actually, genuinely relax. Rokkaku finally enters the top 20, at 17th — the cheers at that from his fellow trainees are uproarious. Yukito, Yukiya, and Michael are safe, too; Adachi smiles and applauds, genuinely happy that he'll still have several of his new friends going forward.

And — as Adachi is sure will become the norm — it's Minato and Kurosawa in competition for that first place spot, once again. "Kurosawa-san, you're once again up for the center. How does that make you feel?" Urabe asks.

"I have nothing but gratitude for the national producers who got me this far," Kurosawa smoothly answers. "No matter where I end up, I'll always be thankful. And to my companions that I've made over the course of this program..."

It's entirely possible that it's just Adachi's eyes playing tricks on him, but for a split second, he swears Kurosawa's gaze falls on him. "... To my companions," he repeats, "I'm just happy to be on this journey with you. Thank you for all your kindness."

"And how about you, Wataya-san?" Urabe asks, turning to Minato.

"Like Kurosawa said, I'm nothing but grateful to kthe national producers who have... stuck by me during this program. Of course, I want to take first place, as the Minato that you know now." He swallows, and shifts a little bit awkwardly, before he continues. "...So... if you're with me, please stay with me. Thank you for everything."

There's surprisingly tepid applause at Minato's speech. It is, in fact, Minato who takes first place, this time around; Kurosawa gives him a fist bump as he walks to his seat in the center.

The last trainee to make it — the 35th place contestant — is a trainee from Osaka who Adachi isn't familiar with. He gives a speech, and then... it's over. The rankings are set.

This cut feels like it hurts more, Adachi thinks. Rokkaku's crying, surrounded by his B class friends, who didn't all rank above 35th; Yukito, and Adachi himself, go to comfort Mitsuo, who just barely didn't make it. He sees Kurosawa patting the head of another trainee that he isn't close to — one of the people he helped back during Chase Me — and give a hug to the D rank trainee who centered their team during the position battle.

But that's the nature of this show — there are always broken friendships and goodbyes. Hell, Adachi will probably be parting from everyone, once these concept battles are done with; the idea makes him...

Dizzy. He feels like the floor has come out from under him, and he isn't sure why; Adachi has always known his time on this show was temporary, so why would he feel unsettled? And why, Adachi wonders, does Kurosawa's face pop into his head, when he thinks of how much those goodbyes will hurt?

But he shakes his head, dispelling those thoughts. Adachi is still here now. That's the thing that matters the most.

It isn't that Adachi didn't foresee this. He was hoping it wouldn't happen, to the extent that he refused to think about the possibility. But there are seven trainees per song — you can't really release "35 Boys, 5 Concepts" otherwise — and even after the elimination, eight out of Telescope's 12 original members still remain.

Somebody has to be voted out. And Adachi is pretty sure who it's going to be, even before the voting starts. The eight trainees sit in a circle to discuss the matter.

"...The way things are now, we're a pretty balanced group," Haruka says. "The only overlap is..."

"...The main vocals," finishes another trainee — Kishida something, now their team's main rapper.

It seems like all of the eyes in the room turn to Adachi and Yukito. In theory, Adachi should make a case for himself — explain to the other members why he's the one who needs to stay.

But those aren't the words that come out of his mouth. "...You guys should keep Yukito."

The room is still silent, at that, so Adachi just continues. "Yukito... has a good personality, and he's a better dancer than I am. He's also ranked higher than I am, so there's a better chance that you'll do well with the audience if he's there."

Kurosawa shoots Adachi a look — it's that same expression he had on his face before the first ranking ceremony, exhausted and miserable. "Let's talk this out, before we —"

"Are you sure you're fine with that?" Yukito asks. "'Cause I'm grateful, I really am, but if you don't want to move... like, we can have more discussion. Like Kurosawa said."

"...He isn't wrong about the ranking thing," Haruka says.

"And Yukito, I know you, so I know that you're a good dancer," adds Kishida.

But Kurosawa won't have it. He pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales sharply. "We'll at least vote for it," he says, voice tight. He isn't their team's leader, Haruka is — but it comes off as an order, so authoritative that the rest of the team can't refuse.

Haruka nods. "Yukito, Adachi, go stand facing the wall. We'll make this quick."

To Haruka's credit — yes, yes they do. It's barely a minute before Adachi and Yukito are called back to the circle. Adachi can tell what the results are, before Haruka says them, by the way Kurosawa has an absolutely furious expression on his face. "...I'm sorry, Adachi," Haruka says.

Adachi stands up and dusts himself off. "I'm fine with going. There's no need for you to apologize." It isn't a lie. It sucks, certainly — there goes what's probably his last chance to be on Kurosawa's team, which does kind of make Adachi's chest feel like it's caving in — but he manages a smile. "Yukito, do your best out there, okay? Remember what Fujisaki-sensei said, and you'll be amazing."

Kurosawa stands up so abruptly that it scares the trainee next to him. "Adachi, wait —"

But Adachi just waves and leaves the room. He has an entirely new song to learn, after all; he needs to spend all the time he can learning it. (And if he focuses on that — if he puts his all into it — then he won't be thinking about how awful Kurosawa's sad face makes him feel.)

"I figured that if anyone got moved, it'd be me. That's why I suggested that I go, myself. I'm not upset at all."

"...They're my teammates, so I didn't want to get angry," Kurosawa says, slowly. "I just don't understand what part of Adachi they don't see."

Haruka shakes his head. "The way Kurosawa was brooding... you'd think that he was the one who got moved, not Adachi."

Being put on Summer Jump is rather serendipitous for Adachi, actually; Rokkaku and Yukiya are both there, so it isn't like he's alone, and the only thing his new team was missing was a main vocalist. "Thank goodness you're here!" Rokkaku says, probably crushing all of the cells in Adachi's body with the hug he gives him.

"I'll do my best," Adachi replies, with a small smile. The room cheers — god, Adachi's the oldest person in there, and Rokkaku might also legally be an adult, but he fits in with the energetic high schoolers like he hasn't aged a day since he graduated.

Summer Jump is no Roar, certainly, but it isn't easy, either; this is the first choreography that Adachi's had to learn without Kurosawa's help, and he does find himself missing his roommate's presence. Because there are so many damn high school kids on this team, though, he doesn't have to be perfect, as long as he's cute and enthusiastic; those are tall orders for someone like Adachi, but by being as earnest as he can, he can somehow keep up. And the vocals — Adachi really does love singing, and hearing his voice on the track is... bizarre. It'll probably never happen again, but god, he's certainly happy about it. He'll be going home soon, but his voice is on a real song that people might even listen to. No matter what else happens, Adachi has concrete proof that he was here.

When it finally comes time to film the performances, to an audience of 1,000 national producers, Adachi's put in a costume that he feels is his most ridiculous yet; in his neon green beanie, oversized blue soccer jersey, long shorts with chains on them, and garish, expensive basketball sneakers, he's pretty sure he looks like he tried to dress like Rokkaku from memory. His entire team is neon and sporty, though; at least he looks congruent.

Telescope's team is already dressed; Adachi doesn't go over to say hello, but when he catches sight of Kurosawa, his breath does catch in his throat. Kurosawa is more than just a visual, and Adachi hates the idea of people seeing him as just that — but he looks like... some kind of ethereal dark elf prince. His costume is black and glittery, so that's part of it, but it's Kurosawa wearing it that makes it look blindingly bright.

Rokkaku taps Adachi on the shoulder for their team's pre-stage chant, snapping Adachi out of his reverie. If he thinks too much about Kurosawa, he won't be able to perform — and when it comes to Kurosawa, Adachi finds himself getting lost in thought easily — so he shoves those thoughts far out of his head. He has a song to sing and a team to not let down and a small group of fans with onigiri-themed signs to please.

Adachi puts everything he can into Summer Jump's performance, dancing and singing like it's his last stage — because it could very well be. He's never done... any fanservice, ever, but he winks and throws hearts whenever he can squeeze them in; his high notes and adlibs at the end of the song are at the very top of the range he's comfortable with, but he belts them for all they're worth. His final pose, which features a finger heart, has him mustering every ounce of his idol power. I'll go out with a bang, he thinks.

And while his team doesn't get the benefit — that ends up going to VENOM — Adachi can at least say he put on a last performance that he was proud of.

(And yet — when he watches Telescope from backstage, Adachi finds himself mesmerized by Kurosawa... and he also finds himself clutching his chest and having shortness of breath. There's an entire chance that he's dying, but it's far more likely that it's just Kurosawa — putting intention behind every one of his words, like he's actually feeling some kind of tragic love that'll never come true — and his excellent skills making Adachi feel... lonely.

He does feel like he's looking through a telescope — because Kurosawa is such a far-away star, light years beyond someone like Adachi. He can try all he wants, but that doesn't mean he can reach... and god, does it make tears press against Adachi's eyes when he thinks about it. Kurosawa's been nothing but kind to him, for no reason, and even if he's grateful for those moments... it's all going to come to an end.

Adachi walks back to the dormitory alone, that night, and doesn't bother with trying to sleep.)

"Oi! You! Glasses bastard!"

Tsuge's been called many names in his day; it comes with the territory of being a film-obsessed geek. Glasses bastard is a new one. He recognizes the person it belongs to — Rokkaku, Adachi's friend — but why he's being called glasses bastard by him is a complete mystery.

He should be on his way home. Almost everyone else is on their way home. Filming for the concept evaluations is done with; he only has one day of work left, with whatever a princess visual center is, and then it's over. He's rather excited to get to work on the drama he applied to do camerawork for; he wants to get a good night's sleep, give Toyokawa one last day of good work, and then never think about Produce 101 Japan ever again.

A person he is vaguely aware of yelling glasses bastard at him is very much not in his plans.

"...Is there something I can help you with?" Tsuge asks, frowning.

"You're avoiding Minato because of those pictures, right? Because he's gay? Someone with prejudices like yours should've never been hired on this show in the first place!"

At the mention of Minato's name — and those pictures, the ones that make Tsuge's stomach violently lurch — Tsuge nearly drops the camera he's holding. "Avoiding Minato?"

"He was telling me how you always used to make sure to film him," Rokkaku says, his glare red hot. "And text him pictures of your cat, and make sure he's doing well... and then he says you just start avoiding him? And that you quit? He's always saying that you're easy to talk to. And then, when he needs someone to talk to the most — you run away?"

Tsuge's knuckles turn white; he sets his camera down. He's made a gross miscalculation, here, and he's probably realized it far too late; if it took this Rokkaku character to make him realize that, then he is well and truly fucked.

He takes a deep breath, and looks Rokkaku in the eye. "...You're right," he admits. "I am avoiding Minato. But you're wrong if you think for a second it's because of some pictures, or because he's gay."

"...So then...?" Rokkaku asks, with a confused frown.

"Tell me where I can find him," Tsuge orders. "Now."

"I mean, I'm his friend, I don't know where he is at all times —"

"Now," Tsuge repeats, his voice an octave lower than usual — maybe he's subconsciously trying to sound intimidating.

"He, uh — maybe the courtyard by the dormitories?" Rokkaku replies. "It's like the park where we practiced back in university, so he practices there sometimes. You better be going to apologize... glasses guy."

Tsuge doesn't bother with responding to that; he simply gives Rokkaku a curt nod, tells one of his remaining coworkers that he's leaving for the night, and runs to the dormitories as fast as he can. He's stupid, so stupid — if he doesn't fix things with Minato here, he doesn't deserve to oshi him, let alone like him. (Because — as much as it pains him to admit it — he likes Minato so, so much.)

He finally reaches the courtyard — and to his relief, there's Minato with his signature bright blond hair, seeming to glow under the moonlight, doing what Tsuge knows to be the choreography for Chase Me. "...Minato!" he cries out, before he can stop himself.

"...Tsuge-san? What are you — did you run here?" Minato asks, frowning.

Tsuge's mouth flaps uselessly. He then bows, deeply, fully on the ground. "I'm sorry!"

"...What?"

"I... I didn't mean to, but I avoided you in your time of need. I'm not sorry for quitting the show — but I really didn't mean to time it with those... pictures... and I absolutely didn't mean to hurt you," Tsuge continues. He lifts his head up, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Minato cautiously steps forward. "You could've just texted me that," he says. "You ran all the way here —"

"It's because you inspired me!" Tsuge blurts out, accidentally interrupting Minato in the process.

"Inspired you...?"

"You're always working so passionately without giving up that it reminded me of why I got behind the camera in the first place. I've always wanted to work in film — and I never thought I could. And I never really understood idols, but then I met you by chance and started liking you —"

"Started liking me?"

"And I realized... I still have a dream I want to go after. You, and your dream... made me want to start chasing my dream again, too." Tsuge takes a deep breath before he continues. "I saw those pictures... they happened to coincide with me handing in my two weeks notice, but I figured it was lucky. Because I selfishly thought, at first, that if you still were together with him, it'd hurt way too much to be around you. And seeing the person I like... kissing someone else... it hurt. But I didn't even consider that I should've been there for you —"

"Tsuge. Tsuge-san. It's fine."

Tsuge's head snaps up. "It's... fine?"

"I mean, not as fine as it could be," Minato says, with a bitter laugh. "I wish I hadn't been fucking outed, and I wish that I didn't have to deny it... and I wish people wouldn't make it their business who I'm attracted to. But... you don't get to be queer in a place like this without some struggles, and... me and Keita aren't together anymore. We haven't been for... months."

Tsuge's eyes widen. He should still be apologizing, but all of a sudden, his mind is far elsewhere. "Months?"

"He didn't like me taking this audition," Minato explains. "He didn't like my chances... and more than that, he didn't like me doing things my own way. So I broke up with him."

Tsuge swallows hard. "Is that... is that so."

Minato smirks, crouching down so he's eye level with Tsuge. "I've been over him for a while. I met someone else filming here..."

"...Go for it." Tsuge casts his eyes down. "Whoever it is would be stupid not to say yes to you."

"Yes," Minato agrees. "Yes, he would."

He then leans forward and suddenly Tsuge can't breathe because they're so close — and Minato presses a soft kiss to Tsuge's lips. Tsuge doesn't even manage to close his eyes before it's over, and it takes a full half a minute for him to realize that Minato is, in fact, talking about him.

"...Y-you," he says, uselessly, after a moment. "You?"

Minato smiles — god, Buddha, Shakespeare, he's the cutest ever, nobody has been this cute before or will be since, Tsuge thinks — and nods. "I like you too."

Tsuge falls over backwards. He isn't sure how much time passes before he comes to again. But when he does, and he sees Minato standing over him, with a relieved look on his face —

Oh, god, he is definitely head-over-heels in love. And maybe his chest feels like it's under the weight of every ocean, but it's... it's not bad. In fact, it's very, very good.

("...Tsuge-san," Minato says, after a second. "The trainees... don't necessarily have to go back to their dorms, during filming breaks. And I happen to have one of those in two days."

"...You should come see Udon-chan," Tsuge replies, once he understands what Minato is implying, which does take him a minute. "In two days. At my house."

Minato grins. "Pick me up from the dorm at 7:00. I'll be there.")

The lights are out in the dorms; Adachi's phone reads a bright white 1:34 AM. He'll have to be awake in seven hours to get ready to film that drag contest, but his mind is so far away from rest that he can't focus on sleeping. There's the contest — and then the ranking ceremony — and then —

And then the top 35 will become the top 20, heading into the finale. It's really no wonder that Adachi can't sleep. If he's thinking about anything, he should be thinking about the ranking — and in a way, he certainly is. But more than that, he's thinking about Kurosawa.

It's weird enough that they're on the same show. It's weirder that they became close. And Adachi can't put a moment on when it happened — it could've been at that first audition, watching Kurosawa's very first performance, or it could've been just a day ago, looking at Kurosawa performing Telescope — but... maybe Adachi's grown a little bit too fond of his fellow contestant.

Because in his mind, every single moment, everything Kurosawa's ever said to him and done for him —

...Thank you for saying that. Adachi, right?

Gotta keep your energy up, right? Especially since you were practicing from... what, six in the morning?

I have confidence in you. The national producers will see that, too.

You're the only person I needed to stay.

...You're necessary.

You aren't holding anyone back, Adachi.

Let's do our best together.

Adachi, wait —

It all echoes in his brain, over and over — they're all things that Adachi just can't let go of, try as he might. It isn't an earth-shattering revelation that sweeps him off his feet, it's...

It's obvious. Adachi curses himself for not realizing it sooner. Who wouldn't fall for Kurosawa, after all that?

He buries his head in his pillow and resists the urge to groan. Of course he has feelings for Kurosawa, and of course they're romantic, and of course he's going to be separated from him here. Nothing else could possibly be his destiny; he's come this far, but he's still cannon fodder. Expendable. A sacrifice at best. And he's experienced his share of luck, in terms of his ranking, sure — his 60th place miracle, and getting the benefit votes to put him at 34th — but his journey, his time with Kurosawa, will definitely end at the ranking ceremony, and there's nothing he can do about it.

And there's no way he's going to tell Kurosawa this, of course. He resolves that as soon as he realizes it — he won't let his silly, stupid heart get in the way of Kurosawa's dream. The best thing — and the only thing — he can do now is prepare for his last few days of filming, and cheer Kurosawa on.

Chapter Text

The very last thing that Tsuge is set to film, before his time with Toyokawa is up, is something called the princess visual center. He's never been interested in idols (before Minato), and he's never watched an episode of Produce 101, even after Minato; he has no idea what it entails.

Whatever he was expecting, though — his boyfriend (boyfriend! repeats a tiny, ebullient voice in Tsuge's brain) in drag was not it.

Several other people are also in drag. That's not the point. Tsuge doesn't even know who they are. The point is, Minato is cute and charming all the time; he is also cute, apparently, when in a pink dress and long black wig. Maybe his co-workers have realized something — maybe that's why they insisted on having him see this. He can barely keep his camera steady.

Minato — well, Minako, as is Minato's drag name, apparently — steps down the runway to raucous applause. She waves and twirls, blowing kisses at the other trainees and not making Tsuge jealous, no siree, that'd be ridiculous.

And — of course — Minako gets a cheesy line when she reaches the end of the runway. Because to be Tsuge Masato, it seems, is to suffer.

"Hey, aniki," Minako says, batting her eyelashes at the camera. (And it is at the camera — the one Tsuge has, somehow, not dropped.) "Do you want to come to my house and eat ramen?"

Tsuge bites his tongue and does his best not to actually scream. He is going to murder all of his coworkers. Or thank them profusely. He'll decide which when his heart calms down; it's currently going so fast that he's seriously considering seeking medical attention.

The text he gets from Minato, once he's backstage and presumably de-dragging, does not help matters. At all. He sets the camera aside and only takes one look at it before clapping a hand over his mouth.

From: Wataya ♡ Minato 

your reaction was so cute hehe

and i meant it lol

"ramen" later? ;)

To: Wataya ♡ Minato

Yes. I'll prepare noodles so that we can relax.

From: Wataya ♡ Minato

^^ see u after the ranking ceremony! <3

Kurosawa's pacing again.

It's a habit that makes Adachi, himself, nervous, now that he knows it's one of Kurosawa's tells. And, once again, Adachi has no idea why Kurosawa could be nervous. (He briefly entertains the idea that Kurosawa is concerned about his, Adachi's, fate. But that would be ridiculous, so he shakes his head, like the thought itself will go away if he does.) The ranking ceremony is tomorrow, but Kurosawa will be fine. Telescope didn't get the benefit, but for a trainee as popular as Kurosawa is, that shouldn't matter; he's still, undoubtedly, the center, and the center always makes it.

But if Kurosawa is nervous — and if (because) Adachi is never going to get the chance to talk to him, one on one, ever again — the best thing Adachi can do is help him out. "...Hey, Kurosawa, wanna head to our practice room?" he asks, trying to keep his voice light. He immediately realizes that he's slipped — it's technically everyone's practice room, and it isn't like there's even a them to claim it, anyway —

But Kurosawa doesn't notice, or doesn't care, to Adachi's relief. He nods. "Yeah. Let's head over there."

It's late enough at night (and, well, Adachi isn't the only one who knows he won't have to practice for much longer) that nobody's around, or even filming; still, Adachi shuts the door behind the two of them, as if it'll somehow give them even more privacy. The two of them sit down by the mirror, in a silence that's both comfortable and not, for several minutes.

"...Tomorrow. You're nervous about tomorrow. Right?" Adachi asks, finally, even though he already knows the answer.

But Kurosawa shakes his head. "Nervous isn't the right word. I'm... scared."

Adachi raises his eyebrows. "Scared," he repeats, trying to hide the confusion in his tone.

"I haven't forgotten what you said," Kurosawa explains. His voice shakes, like it does when he's feeling vulnerable. (Adachi faintly notes how many things about Kurosawa that he's noticed, that other people might not, and hates the strange pride that swells in his chest at it.) "You said that we'd both be okay. Tomorrow... we might... not be."

"You won't go home," Adachi says, his brow furrowing. "Everyone's cheering for you... I'm cheering for you. And the center —"

"Maybe. Maybe. But if you..." Kurosawa interrupts, trailing off. He takes a shaky breath as he tries to find the words. "If I stay, and you're gone... are you going to be okay?"

Adachi averts his gaze, swallowing hard. It'd be easy to say yes. Maybe, just a few nights ago, the answer was yes. If he was never expecting to make it this far, this round is a more than respectable place to be eliminated — hell, it's a miracle the likes of which Adachi could never comprehend.

But he is this far, so it's different. Things have changed. He loves singing — long gone are the days of his reluctant karaoke performances, courtesy of his coworkers. He likes performing, plenty — even if his dancing skills are still shaky, there's just something about being cheered on that makes him feel so warm. He likes the people he's gotten to know here — Adachi never knew before just how resolute Rokkaku could be, or the hilarious way that Tsuge acts when he's fanboying, before he came here. And he has new friends, too — Yukito and Yukiya and Michael and Minato and the other Summer Jump kids and Mitsuo, who he still texts — wonderful people, really, that he got to meet because he's made it this far. He doesn't want to stop singing or performing, and he definitely doesn't want to leave anyone he's met. Not yet.

And he has... what he feels for Kurosawa. Kurosawa, and the bundle of warm feelings that burst in Adachi's heart and mind whenever he thinks of him. Everything about Kurosawa that he would erase, if he could, because he's afraid — because he's never felt like this before, not for anyone, or at least not this strongly.

More than anything or anyone else, Adachi thinks, I don't want to leave you.

Kurosawa takes Adachi's silence for an answer... and, really, it isn't a wrong one. "...I'm going to be staying up all night, worrying about you, if... if things end up going that way," Kurosawa says. "That's why I'm scared."

Adachi shakes his bangs into his eyes. He came here with the goal of comforting Kurosawa — great job, me, he thinks, even the voice in his head sounding miserable. But since it seems like Kurosawa values Adachi — probably not as much as Adachi values Kurosawa, but whatever — Adachi does manage to say something.

"Roar was fun."

"...What?"

"Roar," Adachi repeats, a small smile playing at his lips. "I mean — I don't think I've ever felt that terrible in my life — but you took care of me, so, um, thanks. Thank you for that. Practicing was fun. Hanging out with everyone was fun. And being on stage with you... even if it was just the one time... I'm so, so glad that I got to."

He hopes it conveys what he wants it to — the blatant falsehood that he will be okay, and that he won't regret anything when tomorrow's ranking ceremony is over.

Maybe it works. Maybe it doesn't. Maybe Adachi's made things even worse. (It certainly wouldn't be the first time.) Kurosawa smiles; it doesn't reach his eyes. "...Long day tomorrow," he says, simply. "We should head back."

Adachi nods, and follows Kurosawa out of the practice room and back into their dormitory. He's given up on the concept of a truly restful sleep.

Three times in, Adachi knows how these ranking ceremonies work. This one will be the shortest yet, but he knows all of the steps — walk into the room, strike a fun pose, sit in a folding chair, laugh politely, let Urabe give his spiel, wait. There's a somber air, even as Adachi watches his fellow trainees joke and make fun references, as they all file into the room; this is, after all, the penultimate ranking ceremony.

There's only one episode left to film, when this is done, and only 20 of them can make it there.

Even Urabe seems to be in a more serious mood, as he begins his pre-ranking ceremony speech. (It's kind of uncanny, seeing a literal comedian with such a stoic expression on his face, Adachi thinks.) "Good morning, Produce 101 trainees. You've certainly gone down in number..."

"From the national producer's votes, as well as the benefits from the concept evaluation, amongst the top 35, the 20 trainees who will stand on the stage at the finale will be decided. Those ranked under 21st... will be eliminated," Urabe continues.

Please, just get on with it, Adachi thinks.

"Until now, the national producers have been able to vote for 11 trainees at once. However, during this past round of voting, the national producers have been able to vote for only two trainees at a time. And, of course," Urabe adds, "during the finale, the national producers will only be able to support one trainee at a time. As such, there have been many changes in the rankings. So... let's begin the ranking announcement!"

The announcements begin at 19th place, and cut off at 16th — "These trainees have barely escaped elimination, and their numbers differ in votes... only by the thousands."

Adachi waits, and listens — if he's made it, on that tiny, dust-sized off chance, this is where he'll be. But there are four names called — Teramoto Yukito, Kishida Seiji, Nakamura Taira, and Kawada Hinata — and, as happy as Adachi is for Yukito, he knows for a fact that his chance is now almost completely gone. He's scraped by in the last spot before, but miracles like that don't happen twice. He leans back in his chair and waits — now, he's just another viewer, waiting to see where his friends and other picks will end up.

"The next trainees," Urabe announces, "are ranked from 15th to 12th. These trainees are the closest to the top 11 who will make their debut."

Adachi curls his fingers. 15th goes to Haruka — they weren't on Telescope together for very long, that's for sure, but it's still someone he knows, so Adachi can genuinely applaud and smile.

"The trainee ranked 14th is known for his earnest personality and strong vocal skills," says Urabe, as he announces the next trainee. Adachi frowns. Yukito's already been called, so that could be... Fujii Eisen, from One Wish, or maybe Mihara Tomohiro, the only vocalist on VENOM —

"And that trainee is... from Sakura Flavor, Adachi Kiyoshi!"

"Eh?!"

Adachi jolts up — 14th? 14th place? That cannot be right. There is literally no way he is that close to the top 11. If he's that close — god, if he's that close, he actually has a chance.

Debuting always seemed so... far-off. It's something Adachi's never visualized; he can't see himself in the top 11. He's never even been able to walk up those steps to the top 11 seats, just to see what the view would be like. But at 14th...

At 14th, it's attainable. The impossibility of Adachi debuting was sad, yes, but safe. Having it in his grasp is terrifying — because, now, it really could go either way. But he still manages to walk, legs shaking, to stand and wait for the other two trainees in their section of the ranking to be called.

Adachi recognizes the trainee called at 13th, too — one of his Summer Jump teammates, Uchima Sora, a high school kid with dance skills far beyond what his age would suggest. Adachi gives him a high five as he stands next to him — it's like he's hanging out with a younger cousin of his.

"This next trainee was a center for the concept evaluations," Urabe begins, looking at his card. Adachi thinks. It could be Yukiya, his team's center; Sakakibara Kou, from VENOM; Yahagi Minoru, from One Wish, or —

"The trainee ranked 12th... is Kurosawa Yuichi!"

Adachi's eyes nearly pop out of his head. Wrong, wrong, wrong — if he's here, and Kurosawa isn't in the top 11, something has gone wrong in the universe. Maybe the sun's about to explode. The sudden amount of dread in Adachi's veins certainly feels apocalyptic.

Kurosawa seems to be smiling genuinely, as he takes his place next to Sora, but Adachi feels sick to his stomach. Even when Kurosawa reaches across to give Adachi a friendly fist bump, Adachi can barely be excited about the contact, let alone return it.

Adachi knows that Telescope didn't get the benefit votes. He knows that it can be dangerous to think a trainee you like is safe — and if anyone has gone through this competition as a pretty safe bet, it's Kurosawa. Adachi also knows, from watching past seasons, that two-pick voting is screwy — he, himself, is probably only in 14th on the strength of a strong fandom alliance. That's the thing about these shows that are voted on by viewers, and not internally — the national producers kick each other down and team up as it suits them. If Kurosawa's fans didn't have a strong alliance, then yes — something as ridiculous as him dropping out of the debut line could happen.

But that doesn't make it right; Kurosawa deserves the top 11 at least. Adachi can barely get through his speech, when he has to make it, and even though Kurosawa seems more honestly happy than Adachi has seen him at a ranking ceremony yet, it just doesn't feel like the way things are supposed to be.

Adachi barely pays attention to who the top 11 is, and he's certainly in his own little world when the trainee at 20th is announced. He's happy to see Rokkaku finally hitting the debut line, with Michael and Yukiya joining him at 10th and 9th; he's sure Tsuge will be happy to see Minato take first for the second ranking ceremony in a row, too, though he's completely unfamiliar with Okayama Daisuke, who Minato is now competing against. (He must be popular, if he's that high — but he's never been on one of Adachi's teams, so he's a complete stranger, and more than that, he's not Kurosawa.)

It all feels too abrupt. The ranking ceremony ends — filming isn't done for the day, but there's a brief break before the next section of what will be episode 11 is filmed. Adachi is safe and not — and Kurosawa is safe and not — and it feels like his lungs are collapsing. He sits down on one of the folding chairs, ducks his head down, and takes a deep breath, in an attempt to calm himself down.

"Adachi? What's wrong?"

Adachi lifts his head — of course Kurosawa would notice him trying not to panic, even though he tried to at least pick a secluded spot to do so. "...You're at 12th," he miserably explains.

"I know. We both made it," Kurosawa says, smiling, and taking one of Adachi's hands in his. (Adachi's heartbeat speeds up.) "Are you... aren't you happy?"

"It's not that I'm not," Adachi says. He can probably find it in himself to find some happiness, when the layers of terror wear off — nothing that he feared came to pass, after all. But he still can't look Kurosawa in the eyes. "It's that... I might... I might debut. Without you there."

Kurosawa doesn't even blink at that. He puts his free hand on Adachi's shoulder, his voice gentle. "Adachi. Look at me."

Adachi lifts his head. "What is it?"

"You really must not see how brilliantly you shine if you think you can't do this alone."

"Brilliantly...?" Adachi repeats, dazed. He doesn't shine. Minato and Rokkaku and all of the friends he's made, here — they do. And Kurosawa is so dazzling that Adachi is blinded by it. But Adachi is so... normal; if he has any kind of idol sparkle, it's so dim that it can't be seen.

"Brilliantly," Kurosawa confirms. There's a sureness in his eyes that Adachi can't question, even though he doesn't believe it himself.

So he manages a small smile. Kurosawa pulls him up, and after saying a few more goodbyes, it's on to the next segment.

Once the ranking ceremony's last dregs are done being filmed, the top 20 (the top 20 — Adachi still can't believe he actually has a spot there) are shuffled through hair and makeup. (There were a lot of tears; a lot of touch ups were necessary.) They're then changed into identical grey sweatsuits and herded into a side room to get information on their last evaluation.

Adachi shoves his hands into the pockets of his joggers. As usual, the trainees are arranged by rank; the fact that he's here, and so close to Kurosawa, seems like a dream that he could wake up from at any moment.

Urabe enters the room once the trainees are gathered. "Good afternoon, top 20!" he greets, far too boisterously for how Adachi's feeling. "And good work, everyone. Congratulations. You've all worked hard over these past three months, haven't you?"

It's hard to believe that it's only been three months. It feels like it's been years since that first audition, in that tiny room, with those faceless producers, and at the same time, things have gone so fast that Adachi feels like he's only blinked and somehow teleported to the ending. It's so slow, when you're on the side of the viewer, waiting every week for what's next; actually experiencing Produce 101 is something else entirely.

"You've shown yourselves off in four rounds, now — and if you can manage to win this last evaluation, you'll get to debut." Urabe nods. "It is my honor — it really is! — to announce this last challenge before your debut."

"After I announce these two assignment songs, you'll have twelve days to learn these songs to perform at the finale. With 1,500 national producers at the venue, and the countless ones watching at home, you'll really have to put on the show of your lives! Before you even properly debut! So, everyone: here are the two original songs that you'll be performing for that audience."

The lights in the room abruptly dim. The first song, Gambit, sounds like the K-pop songs Rokkaku always used to play at work, all shining synths and trap drums and fancy choreography — it isn't Adachi's style, but it's so cool. He can definitely see Kurosawa on it; the dance moves suit his precise style perfectly.

The second song, Blaster, though — Adachi listens to the first few measures, and he knows that this is the song he wants to perform. There's guitar and bass and strong, real drums, and the choreography, while it certainly doesn't look easy, looks like something he could potentially pick up in 12 days, if he practiced hard enough.

"Now," Urabe says, once the lights come back up, "you're probably wondering how your parts for these performances will be decided. You'll be divided into two teams of 10... but how?"

A stagehand rolls out a long board, with the names of both songs, every part in them, and pictures of every trainee's face on it. (Adachi cringes. His profile photos are so awkward. At least, if he doesn't debut, he'll probably never have to see any of them ever again.)

"Each trainee will come forward and choose the part they desire. You'll choose in order of rank... starting at 20th. The trainees ranked 19th and above, however, are free to move another's place if their desired part isn't free... even if it's to another song."

So I'm definitely getting stuck on Gambit, Adachi thinks, his brow furrowing. He'd move himself, if he had to; these other trainees, as hyper-competitive as they are, surely have no qualms whatsoever.

"As for the center," Urabe continues, "that'll be decided after the teams are already set. Think seriously about your teammates, and how you can appeal. And now... choosing parts begins!"

The first six trainees all go for Gambit; the spots fill up so quickly that it's clear some guys are going to get moved around. Adachi can appreciate their ambition, even though he can't relate to it whatsoever. When it comes time for his turn, he puts himself at sub-vocal 3 for Blaster — he'd love to be the main vocalist, but if he goes that bold, that quickly, he'd be punished for his hubris and moved somewhere else immediately. Sub-vocal 3 has a good amount of lines, anyway; he'll still get to sing plenty.

Sora picks next — one of the rap positions on Blaster — and Kurosawa steps down afterwards. Adachi can tell on his face that he's seriously considering both songs; Adachi knows that Kurosawa would slay the competition on either one, and either team would be lucky to have him.

Kurosawa looks back, locking eyes with Adachi for just a moment, and nods. "I think... this'll work out for the best," he says, as he moves Adachi out of sub-vocal 3.

Adachi raises his eyebrows. Why Kurosawa wanted that part is beyond him; it isn't like Kurosawa couldn't do any of those positions with his usual charisma and hard work, but not only did Adachi think he'd choose Gambit, he isn't sure why he'd pick something so... middle-of-the-road.

But a moment later — as Kurosawa reaches up and puts Adachi in Blaster's main vocal spot — everything makes perfect sense. ...He did that for me, Adachi realizes. He did that so I could be the main vocalist.

Gratitude — and everything else — overflows in Adachi's heart, and very nearly comes out of his eyes. Doing something so selfless, at this stage of the competition, is reckless — stupid, even; Kurosawa should know that, when his future is suddenly up in the air, that showing himself and going for something a little bolder than sub-vocal 3. But he's still looking out for Adachi, and helping him shine in every way he can.

Adachi can ask why Kurosawa did that later; for now, the question will simply repeat over and over again in his head, where the lyrics to the song he'll end up on should probably be. To his surprise, nobody moves him from the main vocal position; the other vocalists within the top 20 go for other places on the songs. Adachi briefly wonders why nobody tries to take his spot.

But, again, that's something he can ask later. For now, he's on the same team as Kurosawa, one more time...

For one last time.

And Adachi's been given such a great gift, in the form of Kurosawa's inexplicable kindness. It'd be a waste, and an insult, if he didn't put everything he has into this final stage.

He'll find a way to shine just as brightly as Kurosawa thinks he does, and prove himself worthy, if it's the last thing he'll ever do.

There is one last song to be recorded, before the finale: the ballad, the big emotional number that'll also be the last one all 20 trainees get to sing together. This year, it's special: it's a song called Alstroemeria, written and produced by Fujisaki Nozomi herself. And, because Fujisaki is a part of this season, each trainee has a one-on-one talk with her, the day before they actually go into the booth to record their lines.

Adachi goes first — the god damn alphabet, again — and enters the small break room in the Toyokawa studio, where Fujisaki is sitting at a table, sipping from a cup of tea. There's a plate of cookies and a pink highlighter on the table, as well. "Adachi! Good to see you. Why don't you take a seat?"

Adachi nods, and sits across from Fujisaki. Nothing like this has really happened on a Produce season before; he has no idea what to expect. "There aren't any cameras in here, so feel free to say whatever you'd like," Fujisaki adds.

"Y-yeah," Adachi agrees, nodding.

"I named the song Alstroemeria for a reason," Fujisaki begins. "How much do you know about the language of flowers?"

"...Some stuff?" Adachi replies, honestly. "Like, cherry blossoms are the transience of life... but I'm not, uh, super familiar with it, or anything."

"Hm." Fujisaki takes another sip of her tea. "The alstroemeria flower represents a connection that's too strong to be explained in words."

"Is... is that so." Adachi shifts in his seat; he has no idea where this conversation is going.

"Adachi." Fujisaki puts down her cup of tea and looks him in the eyes, a knowing sparkle in them. "...You've met somebody important here."

It isn't a question. It's a factual statement that Adachi can't deny. And her wording is careful — somebody important could mean a lot of things — but laced with meaning, nonetheless; who she's talking about, Adachi knows in an instant. "...But how did you...?"

Fujisaki shrugs. "There are... things that you can see, if you look for them," she replies. "I see articles every day about my own relationship status, but the truth is, I'm not seeing anybody. And I don't have any desire to be in a relationship, either. I can't exactly tell the media that, but..."

Something Fujisaki said earlier in the competition flashes through Adachi's mind — I think, to succeed in this industry, you need to be sure of who you are, even if it's just to yourself. "...But you're sure that that's how you feel, even if nobody else knows?" Adachi finishes, hesitantly.

Fujisaki nods. "Exactly."

Adachi looks down. He hasn't vocalized these feelings; actually doing so is... terrifying, frankly. But he knows he can trust Fujisaki. If anyone will understand him, it's her. "I haven't, um... been in a relationship before, myself. And I've always been fine with that," he adds. "I never met the right woman, is what I thought... and... it isn't really like anyone would want to date someone like me."

"...And Kurosawa is... he's kind to me, he always helps me practice, he chose me for his team... he put me as the main vocalist for Blaster. And he's talented, but he works so hard. So many people just see him as a visual — and he is — but he's so much more than that. He's..."

Adachi swallows hard. "He is somebody important. To me. As stupid as it is... liking somebody I met here... a-and even though we're both guys, which... I never expected, I can't let him go."

Fujisaki is silent for a moment. "...And you're sure that's how you feel."

Adachi nods. "I don't think I've been this sure of anything in my life."

"So, naturally, you want to debut with him, right?"

"Y-yeah, of course!"

Fujisaki reaches across the table and takes one of Adachi's hands in hers. "That's the feeling I want you to sing this song with."

Adachi frowns. "Wanting to debut with him?"

Fujisaki tilts her head to the side. "Well, yes, that. That's definitely included. But I mean everything that you just told me."

Adachi blinks, slowly, as he processes what Fujisaki just said. "...The feelings I have for Kurosawa. That's what you want me to think about? Not... the competition, or..."

"Here. I'll help you. Do you have your lyrics sheet on you?"

Adachi nods; Fujisaki motions for him to give it to her, and he does so. She uncaps the pink highlighter and makes a few notes. "There you go. I should call in Uchima, now, but take a look at what I've written here and think it over properly."

Adachi nods, again. "...Thank you for the advice, Fujisaki-sensei."

"Of course," she says, smiling again. "Do your best out there, okay?"

Adachi manages a small power fist, and silently adds Fujisaki to the ever-growing list of people he's grateful that he met during the turbulence of this show.

Since I can't describe it simply,

since words wouldn't be enough —

I'll hold this summer close to my chest

and keep your light in my future.

Adachi's in the practice room late, again — the more he looks at his part, the more he looks at what Fujisaki's highlighted and noted, the more it feels like his worries press at his ribcage. The lyrics are right — he can't describe how he feels simply. That's kind of the problem. But if he rehearses properly, and thinks hard about Kurosawa (which is not a difficult task), he'll at least be able to perform the ballad properly.

They're recording the song itself tomorrow, and the finale is the day after that. Adachi's dream could come true... or it could come half-true; he's still mulling over the chance that only Kurosawa, or only he, will make it into the final group. It's just two days until it all ends.

God, he doesn't want to say goodbye. Adachi is rehearsing for the sake of learning the song, but he'd be lying if he said it wasn't also a distraction. The less he thinks about what'll actually happen, the better he'll surely feel. "Since I can't describe it simply... wait, that isn't the note," he mutters to himself, going over the lyrics once more.

"You sound beautiful, Adachi."

Adachi doesn't have to look up from his paper to know who's talking. "How'd you know I'd be here?" Adachi asks, half-joking.

"It's our practice room. We always end up here," Kurosawa replies. "May I come in?"

Our practice room, Adachi thinks, smiling and feeling the tips of his ears go red. "Of course you can."

Again, the two of them sit by the mirror. "It's a really gorgeous ballad," Kurosawa says. "These lyrics... Fujisaki-sensei sure is a gifted writer."

"Did she, ah, highlight anything specific for you?" Adachi asks, curious.

Kurosawa nods, handing Adachi his lyrics sheet. "Let's trade."

Sure enough, in pink highlighter, there are notes written on Kurosawa's sheet; he gets the first line of the second verse. Adachi looks at the lyrics, his breath catching in his throat.

The parts of myself that nobody else sees

and the side of myself I don't show to anyone else —

as if my heart was made of glass,

you saw every single facet of me.

"...She's sure astute," Kurosawa murmurs, seemingly having a similar reaction to Adachi's lyrics. "You have... something that's hard to describe?"

Adachi nods. "And you have... someone who sees every facet of you."

Kurosawa is silent. For a moment, Adachi thinks that Kurosawa just didn't hear him — but Kurosawa does speak, eventually. "She... told me to sing those lines while thinking about you."

"Me," Adachi repeats. "Wait, me? Why?"

Kurosawa laughs — it isn't a happy laugh, not at all. "She noticed how I feel about you. That's why she gave me those lines."

"...How you f... oh." Adachi opens his mouth uselessly. "Because you... feel? About me? Is that why you moved me to the main vocal position?"

"I had to do that," Kurosawa replies. "I couldn't let the world be deprived of your voice — I would've done that, even if I didn't..."

The words don't come out of Kurosawa's mouth, hanging unsaid in the air.

Kurosawa shifts, turning to face Adachi. "...Whatever happens next," Kurosawa says, voice quieter than Adachi's ever heard it. "Do I... do I have to say it?"

Oh, says the tiny voice in Adachi's head. He understands, even without Kurosawa saying the words out loud. Adachi should be overjoyed — because Kurosawa feels the same way, because it's actually mutual, by some miracle that Adachi is sure he doesn't deserve, because they've made it this far together — maybe they'll make it the rest of the way, too.

But he's still a coward — he can say what he wants, that he's a realist or whatever, but he's still protecting his own heart. Because at this time, 24 hours from now, Kurosawa will likely be the center of a new group that's guaranteed to do well, and Adachi will be back at home, reading Ragna Crimson and playing Switch games by himself. There's a chance he'll get the opportunity to sign with one of Toyokawa's adjacent labels — but he'll still be separated from Kurosawa. And he's seen the way fans act, when those groups and the winners interact...

So Adachi swallows hard and averts his eyes. "...Can we... talk after the finale?" he asks, instead.

Adachi is glad that he can't see the look on Kurosawa's face. He already feels like he's about to cry; all looking at Kurosawa would do is make things a thousand times worse.

But Kurosawa just moves closer. They're centimeters away from each other, and as if on instinct, Adachi squeezes his eyes shut. His heart is like a freight train, heavy and fast in his chest — he's never been kissed and Kurosawa is here, he's here, they're in a practice room and the reality feels like it's crashing down around him, putting pressure on him on all sides —

And then, light as a feather, he feels Kurosawa's fingers brushing his bangs out of his face. A moment later, there's something soft — Kurosawa's lips — on his forehead.

It's a kiss that's so brief, and so light, that Adachi figures he might've imagined it. But when he manages to open his eyes, Kurosawa is still there, a gentle, fond look in his eyes.

"...After the finale," Kurosawa agrees, moving back and standing up. "Let's give it all we've got."

"Y-yeah," Adachi says, giving Kurosawa a small wave as he exits the practice room.

After the finale — it feels like a promise. Adachi stays in the practice room for another hour before returning to his dorm.

(He doesn't get much sleep, again, but he does spend a large portion of his night touching his forehead in confused, melancholy disbelief.)

"I was just a guy who had high karaoke scores, three months ago. And now... so many things have happened." Adachi smiles. "And I'm so thankful to be able to complete this journey, by... by everyone's side."

"I've been active in entertainment for... almost eight years. And in that time, I've learned and experienced a lot. But nothing," Kurosawa says, eyes serious, "nothing has been as important to me as the person... as the people I've met here."

Chapter Text

With Fujisaki's advice ringing in his ears, and the fact that Kurosawa actually likes him back resonating all the way to his heart, recording Alstroemeria is Adachi's easiest recording session yet. It's a beautiful song — there is truly nothing that Fujisaki Nozomi can't do — and thanks to those two things, the lyrics and emotions come to Adachi easily.

He can't rest quite yet, though; there's one last segment for the finale to film, with all of the top 20 in a small room, set up with a projector. Adachi sits between Kurosawa — he doesn't know how many times he'll get to have any kind of close proximity to Kurosawa in the future, so of course he's going to take advantage of every chance he has while he still can — and Rokkaku, waiting for the video they'll watch to begin. He remembers this segment, from watching the last two seasons — they'll be watching their first auditions, and...

And something they'd recorded on the same day as those PR videos: their messages from their past selves, to their future selves, at the finale. Adachi doesn't even remember what he said, for his; he'd barely put any effort into it, since he never actually figured he'd see it.

The lights in the room dim. Adachi's video is, naturally, the first one up; he cringes at how quiet he sounds when he introduced himself to the producers, and there's a few laughs from his fellow trainees when he the Adachi of the past is asked to do it again.

"Hey, that's the song you sang when I told you about the audition!" Rokkaku says, pointing, as past-Adachi begins to sing.

Adachi nods at Rokkaku, and listens carefully. He definitely sounds... different, now; it's thanks to the advice of the vocal trainers, especially Fujisaki-sensei, that his technique, at least, has improved. (He also doesn't sound like he wishes he was anywhere else anymore.)

After that, there's a slide transition; another past-Adachi, in his oversized sweater and old jeans, steps into frame, barely looking into the camera.

"Hello, me at the finale," Adachi begins, shifting awkwardly. "You... probably will never see this video. If it's to me at the finale. Since there's no way someone like... us, I guess... will make it that far. But if something strange happens and you do, um... work hard... do your best... and... yeah."

"That... sounds about right," Adachi jokes, with a self-deprecating shrug.

"You were really gloomy back then, huh, Adachi?" Michael says, grinning.

"...I'm not still gloomy?" Adachi asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I mean, you're still kinda quiet, but you've really opened up. It's, like, a totally different side from you at work, right down to the way you sing," Rokkaku explains. "You're like a flower!"

Adachi doesn't mean to, necessarily — but he looks over at Kurosawa. Maybe he has opened up — become a little more social, and a little more confident in himself... and Adachi knows exactly who that's thanks to. "...Maybe," he says, the corners of his lips curving up just a little.

But Kurosawa's expression is serious. "...You really didn't expect to make it?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper, even as Sora's (impressive) first audition video begins to play.

Adachi shakes his head. "I'm really going to wake up... any second now," he replies, just as quiet.

Adachi is mostly quiet, as the rest of the audition videos and future messages play; he is paying attention, since there's a non-zero chance that some of these guys will be his teammates, but since so many of them are complete strangers, he really doesn't feel comfortable saying... much of anything. He laughs at one of Okayama Daisuke's jokes, and applauds, impressed, at Kawada Hinata's extremely speedy rapping, but there's really only one person he wants to see again.

Adachi was there for Kurosawa's first audition, but it still dazzles him. He knows what song Kurosawa danced to, now, and the fact that he did an 11-member choreography as a solo performance is incredibly spectacular. "Hey," he asks, curious, "how long did you practice that?"

"...Around six months?" Kurosawa replies.

"I can tell. You've been... so good, even back then. You worked really hard," Adachi says, smiling. Kurosawa smiles back — god, does that ever make all of this worth it. Even when Kurosawa cringes hard at his "cool pose" (which also makes every other trainee burst out into laughter), it's Kurosawa's smile, here and now, that really makes Adachi happy.

Kurosawa's message to his future self is next. He's all confidence, dressed to the nines — Adachi still hasn't seen his PR video, but he thinks the same thing he did back then: if he was just a viewer, he'd definitely be converted instantly.

"To the Kurosawa Yuichi who's made it to the finale," he begins, "You're one step closer to making your dream come true. For real, this time. After all these years... all of your struggles and your hardships... if you're watching this, I hope you've shown off who you really are, with the same heart as when you danced for the first time."

Shown off who you really are — Adachi thinks of the lyrics Kurosawa had highlighted, and that advice Fujisaki gave him, all those weeks ago at the level tests. His true power, the person who he really is...

"You have," Adachi says, before he realizes that he's said it out loud. "You definitely have... shown off who you really are."

Kurosawa turns to him. They're in a room filled with the other trainees, but it's a look that's just for Adachi — all of the vulnerability and affection that Adachi fell so, so hard for. He nods, and wraps his arm around Adachi's shoulder, the thank you evident in his actions, though left unsaid.

There are 12 more videos after Kurosawa's. His arm doesn't move an inch until filming is over.

It's hard to believe that the last episode is actually here. It's even harder for Adachi to believe that he's a part of it. It's like any other evaluation, almost — the same chaotic backstage atmosphere, with makeup artists and production assistants rushing around and the trainees doing their last warmups and stretches — but so different, at the same time.

Adachi will be wearing three different stage outfits, tonight; his one for Blaster, a dark red suit that somehow doesn't make him look like a colorblind salaryman or a cheesy host, is the first. His bangs are gelled up, out of his eyes — he couldn't hide behind them if he wanted to. But he doesn't feel as much stage fright as he has in the past.

It's probably because this might be the last time.

Kurosawa's also done up in red — he's their team's center, naturally, a fact that will be revealed to the national producers only when he steps onstage. God, Adachi thinks, as he gazes in Kurosawa's direction — he looks almost regal in his stage costume, like a king about to prove why he deserves his throne.

They'll be sharing the stage three times tonight — that's so many more times than Adachi could even hope for. Underneath the construct he's made for himself, however — the even getting past the first round was a miracle, I'll make the best of these final few performances and go home feeling proud, I'll try to shine as brightly as you think I do because I like you so much and want to make you happy, one last time that Adachi tries to cling on to, because if he doesn't, he'll break into pieces — is his extremely selfish wish that his time with Kurosawa won't have to come to an end.

They both could make it. They both could not make it, and strike out on their own, somewhere else entirely — a romantic, unrealistic idea, but one that Adachi doesn't mind entertaining. It's the idea of any separation that makes him shiver; he'd be useless in the final group without Kurosawa by his side, he's sure. Kurosawa... Kurosawa will be fine — there's no way he isn't making it, even after his scare at the last ranking ceremony. And beyond that, he's Kurosawa Yuichi. People like him were born to be stars; it'd take a lot of darkness to cover up his light.

At the same time, though — Adachi knows he's the only one that Kurosawa confides in, the only person he's actually vulnerable around. He still isn't sure why that's the case, even if Kurosawa does like him back; what he knows for sure, now, is that even people like Kurosawa need support. He feels... honored, for some reason, that he's the person Kurosawa goes to, when he needs that — and there's a strong worry in Adachi's chest that Kurosawa will be lonely, or sad, if Adachi isn't with him. He's probably vastly overestimating his own importance in Kurosawa's heart and mind, and it's probably ridiculous to imagine Kurosawa being torn up about being separated from someone he's only known for three months, let alone someone like him —

But at least, Adachi can spend time with Kurosawa now, putting his potential futures aside and simply living in the moment. (Or doing his best to, anyway.) He walks over to wear Kurosawa is standing, practicing Blaster's choreography in front of a mirror. "Hey," Adachi says, voice quiet.

Kurosawa turns to him. His eyes are fond, but kind of tired at the same time — Adachi gets the sense that he's made peace with the inevitable, in the same way Adachi himself has. "Hey," Kurosawa replies, at the same volume, his eyes sweeping over Adachi's outfit. "You look... um, nice. Really nice."

Adachi ducks his head down, as shy as ever at Kurosawa's praise, the tips of his ears turning red. (He has the strange feeling that Kurosawa was holding back what he really wanted to say, just then.) "The color suits you better. You... you look like... not that you've debuted already, since, like, you have — your underground days, and stuff — but you look... like you belong up there."

Kurosawa chuckles, his expression not losing any of its exhaustion. "I guess we'll find out by the end of the night," he replies. "Until then, nothing's definite."

It's almost an echo — Adachi remembers that night before the very first ranking ceremony, the two of them in their practice room, Kurosawa's voice when he'd asked Adachi to not say anything sure about his elimination until afterwards. Adachi had been sure, back then, of his results, only to have been proved completely wrong. There aren't any certainties, Adachi's realized, until the very, bitter end.

"You're right," Adachi agrees. "Nothing is definite, so..."

He doesn't really have a way to end his sentence, but Kurosawa seems comforted enough. "Yeah," Kurosawa says, his tone even and steady, with a nod. The Blaster team is called to the wings of the stage a moment later.

Kurosawa gives Adachi one last fist bump, as they join the other eight members of their team to wait for their cue to walk on stage. There's nothing certain, until the end — but the ending is here.

Or, well, almost here; at the very least, his final destination is in sight. Adachi just has to make it through the rest of the night to get there.

Gambit's performance is first. Adachi gets glimpses of Minato and Rokkaku and Michael and Yukito in their dark blue outfits, the national producers cheering at every move they make; Adachi can't see much of it, but he's sure that it's a fantastic performance. (He's also sure that, somewhere, Tsuge is screaming at his television in joy over Minato being Gambit's center.)

Blaster steps backstage; Kurosawa, who's their team's leader in addition to being its center, huddles the ten of them in a circle to give a short speech, before it's their time to properly walk on. "We've all worked hard to get here, and we've all worked hard on this song. This isn't just what we've done for the past 12 days — this is the culmination of all of our efforts, from day one. And I know that each and every one of you..."

He trails off, locking eyes with Adachi. "I know that each and every one of you has earned this spot. So let's go out there and show the national producers just how much you've... how much we've all grown! Yeah?"

"Yeah!" echoes the team back, putting their hands in the middle for one last cheer. It's a good speech; it doesn't exactly fill Adachi with confidence, but that's less of a failure of Kurosawa's charisma and more one of his own low self esteem. What does make Adachi feel a little bit more sure of himself, though, is the feeling that the last bit of Kurosawa's speech was directed, specifically, at him.

Adachi gives his best cool-guy walk as the ten of them step from the back of the stage to the front of it, immediately getting in position for the first part of the song — on his knees, to be lifted up in formation by two of the other trainees after the first line. There are a lot of parts in this song like that, lifts and grabs and pushes; I've come a long way, Adachi thinks, from being afraid to move my elbows and smack somebody.

There's one part of the choreography, though, that Adachi is thrilled and terrified by in equal measure. It's barely a measure long, brief enough to miss if you turned your head for too long during one of Kurosawa's lines in the second pre-chorus, but it's definitely the section Adachi's struggled the most with. It's also not the only section of its kind on Blaster — fanservice like this, after all, is great way to keep fans talking.

Still, Adachi feels his heartbeat speed up as Kurosawa steps towards him for the move. All Adachi has to do is turn around, let Kurosawa tug him closer by the collar, and then slide forward, so that he'll be in position for his next solo line. It does only last for a few seconds — and our faces have been way closer than they are now, Adachi faintly registers — but Adachi's traitorous eyes still drop to Kurosawa's lips, taking him far out of the performance for a moment.

Luckily, he does manage to snap out of it — Adachi stumbles forward far less smoothly than he'd like, but he ends up delivering his next line as if his heart isn't beating so hard he's pretty sure that some of his ribs are broken.

(He can't look Kurosawa in the eyes as the two of them head back backstage to change clothes for the next section. When Adachi does manage to peek, though, he notices that Kurosawa's cheeks are a little bit pinker than usual.)

There's another break before Alstroemeria begins. The trainees change into their next sets of stage costumes — Adachi's, which features an oversized beige sweater and jeans, almost feels like something he'd casually wear in real life — and mull about backstage, as Urabe announces the final group's name (RE-1 — a Produce-ish enough name, Adachi thinks), and videos of each trainee's journey play on the venue's screens. There's even more hugging, and even more tears; Adachi, still feeling far too shy to talk to Kurosawa after... that, opts instead to do some vocal warmups by himself in a corner.

It's the second-biggest performance that Adachi's been a part of, after all 101 trainees performed Chase Me, a million years ago. Adachi has a decent amount of lines, including some adlibs, since there aren't many vocally-focused trainees left at this point, but he isn't that concerned about how well he'll do. With Fujisaki's wonderful lyrics, and with his heart set on what he'll really be singing about up there, something close to confidence — that, at least, he'll give a great performance — is flowing through his veins.

Fitting 20 men on stage is a bit of an effort; Adachi is, initially, sat between Rokkaku and Minato, on what looks like a cross between a jungle gym and a modern art project. As the soft guitar and piano of Alstroemeria ring out through the venue's sound system, Adachi closes his eyes for a moment, simply listening to everyone's voices as they join in, one by one. Fujisaki-sensei is sure a genius, Adachi thinks — she clearly put care into each trainee's solo part, more than he'd realized just reading his and Kurosawa's parts. There isn't one line that doesn't seem to be reflective of someone's — or everyone's — journeys.

As the bridge before the last chorus of Alstroemeria begins, with Yukito and another vocalist, that Mihara Tomohiro guy, taking the lead, Adachi dares to turn to look at Kurosawa. (He hasn't in a while.)

What he sees surprises him. Kurosawa's crying.

Adachi's pretty sure that he's seen Kurosawa close to tears... a few times, now. But he's never let them spill, not once, until this moment. He wipes them off quickly — Adachi isn't even sure the cameras could catch it — but his eyes are still shining, even beyond their usual full-idol power sparkle.

He's even dazzling when he has tears in his eyes, Adachi thinks, even as the outro of the song — thank you, goodbye, my alstroemeria, repeated until the fade out — requires him to actually join in and sing his background adlibs. Fujisaki told him to sing this song while thinking about Kurosawa, but being caught staring in his direction is... something else entirely. (Something Adachi does not want aired on national, live television.)

The sight still sticks to Adachi, even as the trainees are shuffled back to their changing rooms to prepare for the night's last performance. Once he's changed, he knocks on the door to Kurosawa's dressing room. "Um, it's Adachi —"

The door swings open. "Thank goodness," Kurosawa says, quickly wrapping Adachi up into a tight hug.

Adachi squeezes back, for just a moment, before pulling away. "Thank goodness?"

"I was afraid I wouldn't get to talk to you," Kurosawa explains, smoothing his shirt. "before... before..."

"You don't have to say it. It's okay. I just..." Adachi swallows. "...Were you... you were crying. During the song."

"I didn't think anyone caught me..."

"...I wanted to look at you. You said I shine brilliantly — you're something else, when you're up there." Adachi shrugs. He's just stating facts, after all. "And I've never seen you cry before..."

Kurosawa shrugs, looking around to make sure the other trainees aren't listening very closely in, and leans forward. "I did what Fujisaki said. I thought about you. And there's so much that I..." Kurosawa's breath shakes. "I feel like my heart's going to explode."

"Kurosawa..." Adachi says, softly, fondly. He wraps his arms over Kurosawa one last time. They don't have time to talk — Kurosawa barely has time to hug Adachi back, before the trainees get called to their final places — but he hopes that it's reassuring, at least, all the same.

And maybe it is. As one of the stagehands calls for places, Adachi pulls away, briefly squeezing Kurosawa's hand as he does so. "You ready?" he asks.

Kurosawa takes a deep breath and nods. "Let's go," he says.

The two of them take their places to be lifted on to the stage. Adachi gives Kurosawa one last, firm nod.

With that, and a change in lighting, the end finally begins.

The last performance of the night is, of course, the last performance of Chase Me, with Minato front and center — he did rank first at the last ranking ceremony, after all. They're changed into their uniforms one last time — it's almost like an actual high school graduation, if some of the graduates were in their 20s.

There's a quote Adachi read, somewhere, that comes to mind, as the trainees stand to wait to see if they'll be called to that shining pyramid — fear makes companions of us all. He hasn't talked to most of these trainees, but he knows, as well, that they're all united by identical senses of dread. It's for different reasons, of course, but it all comes down to the same question: will I get to debut, or won't I?

One-pick voting is always volatile. There are no benefits, this time — just the power of fans all fighting their hardest. And if Toyokawa doesn't want him in this group, the votes don't matter; they can always pull the last few levers to create exactly what they want. (They haven't. That doesn't mean they won't.)

Adachi wasn't even sure he had fans, until they somehow stuck him in the top 20. If they could pull off 60th, 34th, and all the way up to 14th, they could — maybe — push him up at least three slots. Or, maybe, their hard work and voting just didn't pay off; there are more popular guys than Adachi, that much is sure, ones who haven't dropped out of the top 11 once. Their spots are more or less reserved... unless Adachi's fans worked harder than theirs.

He won't know until the moment his name is — or, rather, isn't — called.

The fact that he's just as concerned with Kurosawa's fate doesn't help Adachi feel any less assured. It's extremely likely that, after whatever made him drop, Kurosawa's fans went even harder to vote him back to the top — Adachi knows he would, if he was on their side of things. That's the hope he clings to the most.

(Or, it's the hope that he admits to himself that he's clinging to the most; the real answer, what Adachi wants more than anything else, is a little bit different. That said, he doesn't let his selfish thoughts be anything more than intrusive wisps that he can destroy before they take over.)

Like every other ranking, Urabe starts with the trainee just above the cutoff, at 10th place. The platform full of trainees is absolutely silent; even the national producers in the audience go dead-quiet, as anticipation grows in the air.

"In 10th place... is... Yahagi Minoru!"

Adachi claps politely, patting the stranger on the back as he makes his way to the platform. He's... never actually talked to Minoru. But 10th place isn't exactly a problem yet. It's when they get higher that Adachi will be worried, he's sure.

He listens carefully to each rank and name. 9th, Kawada Hinata; 8th, Teramoto Yukito, that's good, the group will have a good main vocalist, Adachi thinks; 7th, Hayashida Michael; 6th, Kudou Yuu; 5th, Rokkaku Yuta, who jumps higher than Adachi's ever seen a human jump when his name is called, giving Adachi one more way too tight hug before he steps on to the pyramid; 4th, Uchima Sora; 3rd, that Okayama Daisuke guy —

It's now or never, Adachi thinks. He drums his fingers nervously against his thigh. He's never felt this impatient in his life.

"And now," Urabe announces, "your two candidates for RE-1's center... the contenders for that shining first place... are... Kurosawa Yuichi and Wataya Minato!"

Adachi nearly drops to his knees in relief. Kurosawa's safe. He made it, properly — he might even break that so called center curse. "I knew you'd make it," Adachi says, his voice nearly drowned out as the venue cheers. "Congratulations."

For a split second, Kurosawa's eternally-grateful idol smile falls, turning into a more serious gaze; he mouths thank you at Adachi, patting him on the shoulder before walking to the pyramid.

Now that Kurosawa's fate is sealed, Adachi can relax a little; there's still the question of if he's actually up first, but he's safe, and that's what...

That's ALL that matters, Adachi thinks, scolding himself. Don't go there, my brain.

"Throughout this competition, these two trainees have competed as rivals and as friends. They've fought to be not just RE-1's center, but your center." Urabe pauses for dramatic effect. "Only one can be number one."

There's another pause. Urabe's sure dragging this out, Adachi thinks. "And that number one trainee... is..."

"KUROSAWA YUICHI!"

There's raucous applause, the venue erupting in shrieks and cheers, as Minato and Kurosawa give each other one last handshake. Adachi, too, is cheering; RE-1 will be in good hands, if Kurosawa's at the front of it. All of his efforts have paid off.

But Adachi's reminded of how Kurosawa looked at that first ranking ceremony, all those weeks ago — a smile on his face, but no happiness in his eyes. Nobody would know that he's feeling anything except the perfect gratefulness that a new idol should feel... unless they've spent countless late nights and early mornings with Kurosawa in the practice room, looking into those eyes when they've been at their lowest.

Something dark and heavy sinks to the bottom of Adachi's stomach.

"To the national producers who've... given me the honor of being RE-1's center," Kurosawa begins, belying none of what Adachi's pretty sure he's feeling, "I have nothing but gratitude. It's only thanks to your efforts, voting and cheering me on, that I was able to come this far. I promise you that I will repay your every effort."

He takes a deep breath, and continues. (He's the center. He can take as much speech time as he wants.) "It's because of you that I managed to wander out of the pain and sadness and into this light. It's because of you that I can shine. And I want to make it so that... whatever darkness you go through, I'll be with you."

Adachi feels something — someone's patting his back, someone else squeezing his shoulder. The other trainees are trying to comfort him, he realizes; Kurosawa isn't addressing the national producers, at least, not anymore. The realization that even his fellow trainees managed to clock... whatever it is Adachi and Kurosawa have going on aside, Adachi feels his heart shaking.

"I... want nothing more," Kurosawa finishes, "than to walk on your side, for as long as you'll have me."

But I can't, Kurosawa doesn't say. (He doesn't have to. Adachi knows it's there without needing to hear it out loud.) Kurosawa bows deeply and finishes his speech with another thank you to the national producers, and walks to the top of the pyramid as Minato begins his speech.

And Adachi hates it. He hates the way he feels, in this moment. He hates his selfish desire to take that last open spot, just so he can stay with Kurosawa. He hates the way his eyes are stinging, the tears hidden just behind them being drawn out by the too-bright stage lights.

He hates how Kurosawa's words felt like an apology, and like a goodbye.

But Adachi shoots Kurosawa a smile, anyway — because it was always far-off, from the very beginning, that they'd end up in the same group. You don't gaze at the sunset, or a sky full of stars, and expect it to gaze back; Adachi is light years away, meant simply to be in the role of someone who stares.

Telling that to himself doesn't make it hurt any less, not an ounce, but Adachi tries. He tries his absolute best, harder than he has in his life, to believe that.

When Minato's speech is over, Urabe takes center stage once more. "With Kurosawa Yuichi in its center, the lineup for RE-1 has been decided. But there's just one spot left to be revealed... the trainee who caught the elusive eleventh place spot."

There are ten trainees left who haven't had their names called — some strangers, some friends, and Adachi. Some of them, Adachi's actually been ranked higher than, before; some of them seem far more like locks.

But they won't know until Urabe says the name. Adachi's fingers curl into fists, his nails digging into his palms. It's not me, so don't get your hopes up, he repeats to himself, over and over in his head. It doesn't work at all; his heart is still pounding, so loudly that Adachi is sure that Kurosawa can hear it all the way from his first place seat.

"In eleventh place," Urabe announces, taking his sweet time with every syllable, "the last trainee in RE-1 is..."

Chapter Text

Time does not stand still, but it feels close.

There are a million thoughts rushing through Adachi's head — the ranking histories of the ten of them who could take that spot, Kurosawa, the actual chances that he's the one who's going to grab it, Kurosawa, green penlights and onigiri-themed towels, Kurosawa — and each one serves to make each real second feel like an eternity. Really, Urabe hasn't paused for that long. He can't drag things out too much — they only have a two hour time slot — so the fact that it feels like Adachi's suddenly aged 60 years, waiting, is frustrating and inexplicable in equal measure.

The ten trainees on the pyramid — or, well, not trainees anymore, they're idols, for real — are leaning forward to see who their last member is going to be. The trainees on the platform are silent — some have their heads turned down, eyes shut, perhaps praying that their name will be called, and some are looking forward, serious looks in their eyes, like they're sure that Urabe will say their name.

Adachi's gaze doesn't fall on anything in particular. He tries to stop his overly-anxious brain from doing what it seems to do best — that is, overthinking — and just be empty, for a single second.

Urabe looks at the card with the name of the last trainee on it. "The last trainee in RE-1 is..." he repeats, looking back at it one last time...

"With a total of 189,577 votes... from Tokyo, Adachi Kiyoshi!"

"EH?!"

That can't be right — it can't be real — yes, he's Adachi Kiyoshi from Tokyo, normal guy turned Produce 101 Japan contestant — but maybe there's a second Adachi Kiyoshi from Tokyo that he's missed, by virtue of being too shy to talk to anyone he isn't in a group with, or maybe he's hallucinating, or maybe he's just going to wake up, three months ago, in his apartment, because he's fallen asleep on his Joy-Con again, and whenever he does that, he has weird dreams —

But the way the venue is cheering — that's not a lie. The hugs, the pats on the back he's receiving, the applause and congratulations from his fellow trainees — those aren't lies.

So it has to be real. Adachi's made it. He's debuting.

And at the top of the pyramid, Kurosawa is waiting. It's distant, still — Adachi still hasn't moved from where he's standing on the platform, oh, he'll have to walk forward eventually — but even from here, it looks like the most genuine smile he's seen from Kurosawa all night.

Adachi takes a deep breath. He's made it, he's done it — and now, there's his last step. His speech. He's not as charismatic or eloquent as Kurosawa is, but he knows what's in his heart; as he walks to the pyramid, he already has... a vague idea of what he's going to say.

"Thank you," he begins, "for voting for me. For voting for me so much that I actually... I'm actually going to debut. I can't believe that... you'd choose to actually support someone like me. So, um, a million times, thank you."

He nods, briefly, before the directed-at-Kurosawa-but-ostensibly-addressed-to-everyone portion of his speech begins. "You... saw something in me that I didn't. That, um, maybe I still have trouble seeing. So... since we'll be, um, walking side by side from now on, I hope you'll take care of me. Thank you! For everything!"

Adachi bows — deep and long, to get across his gratitude for everyone who's helped him get this far — and turns to the pyramid to take his spot.

The other trainees — no, that's not right, they're RE-1's members, Adachi's members, all of them — also step down to congratulate Adachi, as soon as he's facing them. Kurosawa, with his damned former-athlete speed, is the first down, even from all the way at the top; Adachi lifts his arms to meet his hug before he realizes he's doing so.

Adachi's spent this entire competition thinking that him making it this far couldn't be right. But the way he feels — just holding Kurosawa, and just letting himself be held back — can't be wrong. He doesn't say anything, and Kurosawa doesn't, either. They don't really have to; they've made their sentiments towards each other crystal clear.

"You're hogging him!" yells Rokkaku — Adachi snaps away from Kurosawa's embrace, feeling his face go red. He hadn't actually realized that any time had passed, but that doesn't matter — the next thing Adachi knows, the rest of his members are congratulating him in their own ways. He's being squished by Rokkaku, high-fived by Michael and Yukito, having his back pat by Minato and Sora — and shaking hands, for the first time, with Hinata, Minoru, Yuu, and even that Okayama Daisuke. (Adachi can't really feel negatively towards him anymore; they're going to be debuting in the same group, after all. And he didn't beat Kurosawa again, so really, all resentment Adachi might've had is gone.)

It's bittersweet, certainly. He's here — and back on the platform, Adachi has friends who very much aren't. Yukiya, Haruka, the rest of his Blaster teammates... it does hurt to think about. But they've got bright futures, too, Adachi knows; if he was an entertainment company executive somewhere, looking for new, unsigned talent, he knows exactly where he'd look first.

So as filming draws to a close for the very last time, Adachi at least can manage to focus on the sweet. He looks at Kurosawa again — still smiling, still dazzling, but for once, it doesn't feel like he's too many light years away to reach.

Adachi's chest feels light. He isn't sure what he did to deserve any of this. This show, this debut, getting to be by Kurosawa's side... why he gets lucky, lucky enough to have all of these things, Adachi will never be sure.

But because he's been this lucky, he isn't going to waste a second. Right now — and for however long in the future — even someone like him can make the best of every single moment.

The dorms feel so empty — and in a few hours, they will be.

The finale was just a few days ago; of course, things didn't actually end when the finale did. The eleven of them — the actual 11 members of RE-1, Adachi included — had their final contracts to look over and sign, and as soon as their signatures were on the papers, their activities as RE-1 began. It felt like every tabloid, newspaper, and entertainment magazine that Adachi's even slightly cognizant of had sent reporters; the cameras flashed like fireworks, trying to capture everyone from every angle. Adachi did his best while being interviewed, in a post-show daze; he's pretty sure he just said the same thing — "I seriously can't believe it" — over and over again, but at least he managed a coherent response at all.

Now, it's the last day for RE-1 to live in their Produce dorms, before the 11 of them head to Korea for a training camp; Adachi and Kurosawa have mostly finished packing up, and are waiting for the manager (their manager — one Mr. Hirai, who's young enough to be RE-1's 12th member) to give them the okay to actually leave. Adachi is idly scrolling through social media — when he scrolls through it now, he sees a lot more positivity than he did before.

@onigirilove: ADACHI MADE IT!!! OUR MIRACLE BOY MADE IT!!!!!!!!!

@adorable_adachi: nothing better than seeing your rough pebble turn into a diamond. maybe. i don't know how stones work

@re1kiyoshi: to think that he was just Some Guy three months ago and now he's an idol... im literally so proud of adachi kiyoshi emo hours who tf up

@kur0d4ch1: NOTHING but respect for MY center and MY onigiri boy <3 together forever!!!

@adacheese: KURODACHI STANS WON TERADACHI STANS WON YUTADACHI STANS WON WE ALL ARE WINNERS ON THIS BLESSED DAY

@kiyoshiism: kurodachi hugged for twelve straight seconds. i COUNTED. TWELVE (12) OF THEM. and they say love is dead

"What's a Kurodachi...?" Adachi mumbles, only half-consciously realizing that he's saying it out loud.

"It's our ship name," Kurosawa explains. "The first character from my name, and then the second character from yours. Kurodachi."

Adachi's eyebrows furrow as he looks up. "What's a ship name, and... how do you know what ours is?"

"No, uh, particular reason." Kurosawa clears his throat. "Actually, since we're both packed up... we never got the chance to have that talk after the finale, did we?"

It does seem like Kurosawa is desperately trying to change the subject from whatever a ship name is, and why he knows what theirs is... but Adachi also knows that there's a conversation that needs to be had, and there might not be much time in the future to do it.

So he nods, and puts his phone in his back pocket. "Let's... yeah. Let's talk."

There's a silent moment; Kurosawa lifts his eyebrows and nods at where Adachi's sitting on his bed, asking for permission to sit down. Adachi nods, and Kurosawa does so, taking a deep breath before he starts speaking.

"...People have seen me as just a visual, ever since I came into show business," Kurosawa begins. "That was my role in my old group — Kurosawa Yuichi, in charge of visuals."

"But there's so much more to you than that," Adachi says, frowning.

"Nobody's ever bothered to look for it." He pauses, smiling. "And then I met you. You went out of your way when your teammates were... being like that. Eight years, doing this, and nobody's ever tried to reassure me like you did. Nobody's ever said the things you said to me."

"...That can't be true," Adachi says, because he doesn't want to believe that. "Not even once?"

Kurosawa shakes his head. "Not even once. That's why I started liking you so much, and so fast. It's like Fujisaki wrote, right? It's like you see every facet of me... even the things that nobody else seems to. And then, everything just kept... growing." He smiles, affectionate. "I like you so much, Adachi Kiyoshi. Everything about you. I know it's stupid... dangerous, even... developing feelings for somebody here and now. But I can't just look at you as a friend or as a teammate. Popularity is... what it is; I always figured it didn't matter so long as I debuted. But you became more important than that, even."

Adachi swallows. Kurosawa's feelings feel so much more real, now that he's actually said them. And here Adachi is — an idol about to start preparing for his debut, maybe, but still the same, timid person he's always been, who's never been in a relationship in his life. Somebody having any romantic feelings for him is hard to believe, to say the least; Kurosawa having them makes Ragna Crimson look like a work of nonfiction.

But unbelievable things have been happening to Adachi ever since he stepped in front of those faceless producers, all those months ago. He can trust his own heart, he knows that much — and he's never stopped believing in Kurosawa.

"...You noticed that I exist at all," Adachi says, quietly.

Kurosawa is silent, at that, so Adachi continues. "I already told you that I didn't expect to make it to the end. I didn't expect to even make it on the air. I don't... stand out, or... have a lot of presence... and I've never performed, before this, aside from karaoke with my coworkers. I thought it didn't make sense for you to... be spending so much time with someone like me. But you did, and... I got to shine. Thanks to you. I'm so much more than thankful. I really would... not be here if you weren't with me."

"S-so what I'm saying is, um, I like you too," Adachi awkwardly finishes. "More than I've ever liked anything or anyone. That's... I know I didn't say it well, and I'm sorry I didn't really reply to you before, but those are my feelings —"

Adachi's awkward post-confession apology is interrupted by Kurosawa throwing his arms around Adachi. "...Are you sure? Because... I'm not going to let you go."

Adachi raises his own arms, just a little, to meet Kurosawa's embrace. "Bet," he says, after a moment.

"...Bet, huh?" Kurosawa says, laughing — but he doesn't pull away. In fact, he does the exact opposite; he buries his face in Adachi's shoulder. They stay like that for long enough that Adachi loses track of time.

After some time, Kurosawa pulls away, a surprisingly playful smirk on his face. "...How long do you think we have until Mr. Hirai comes and picks us up?" he asks.

"He is really taking his time. Or maybe someone's just messy," Adachi replies. "Why?"

"Because," Kurosawa explains, "there aren't any cameras in this dorm anymore, and I would really like to kiss you."

"Eh?"

"If that's too much —"

"No, no, it's — I promise it's not," Adachi says, because I've kind of been thinking about kissing you a lot, because ever since Blaster I've been able to almost picture it and it's driving me the tiniest bit crazy are words that would electrocute him if he said them out loud. "I've just, um, I haven't kissed... anyone... before."

He swallows hard, and manages to look Kurosawa in the eyes. "So could you help me learn? One more time?"

Kurosawa's grin widens. "I would be honored," he replies. "Just... follow my lead, and you'll do fine."

With that, Kurosawa leans in. Adachi's eyes close before he realizes he's doing it. It's a soft kiss, one that Adachi doesn't have to do much responding to; he does fumble a little bit to intertwine his fingers with Kurosawa's, wanting to feel just a little bit more of Kurosawa's warmth.

Kurosawa squeezes Adachi's hand reassuringly, not once moving his lips away from Adachi's. His lessons continue for another half an hour, before Mr. Hirai's knocking means that it's time to separate.

"You ready?" Kurosawa asks, not letting go of Adachi's hand, as the two of them stand up.

These have been the strangest three months of Adachi's life — but he got to meet Kurosawa, and it all started right here. Adachi gets the sense that the road is just beginning. Their contracts are for six years... that's a long, long time.

But he'll be alright. Kurosawa's by his side; Adachi can do anything, so long as that's true.

"Ready," Adachi confirms, with a nod. The two grab their suitcases, take one last look at their dorm room, and follow Mr. Hirai to where the rest of RE-1 is waiting.

"So," Hinata says, making sure to get it right. "Udon-chan is the grey one, and the brown one is... Rei-chan?"

"Like reimen — cold noodles," Minato explains, scrolling through the folder of pictures on his phone.

Adachi looks over Hinata's shoulder at the gallery of two cats, and one Tsuge Masato. "Tsuge wanted them to match, didn't he?" he asks, with a small smirk. "Two noodle names?"

"Got it in one. Aren't the three of them cute?" Minato says, grinning.

"That... sure sounds like Tsuge," Adachi says, smiling at his best friend... being exactly himself.

It's been two months since the finale; in just one month more, RE-1's first single, a peppy, upbeat song called MAGIC, in all caps, will begin its rollout. Adachi's pretty sure he's never felt this busy in his life. Every day is something different — photoshoots, practicing, recording, more practicing, getting his makeup done, so much practicing that Adachi can barely manage to stand up when he gets back to RE-1's new dormitory.

Despite this, however, Adachi's slowly getting used to... pretty much everything. It's still weird, so weird, to be doing all these idol activities, but it isn't bad, either. His lessons are fun, and MAGIC is a great song, and with every random magazine shoot and selfie he's forced to take, Adachi feels a little bit more sure of himself. He's been assigned a member color, even: green, just like his fans expected. It makes Adachi feel a little bit more like he's actually an idol.

The other members are great, too; on top of being a balanced team, skill-wise, everyone gets along, and there are rarely any arguments. They've selected a leader — Hinata, the third-oldest member, since Kurosawa had specifically requested to not be in the running, and Adachi knows that being the second-oldest member doesn't mean he's remotely qualified — and filmed some pretty fun content for RE-1's YouTube channel, all eleven of them together. Adachi is closest to Rokkaku, Minato, Yukito, Sora, and Michael (with Kurosawa being his own special category of "boyfriend", and therefore not in the running for normal friendship), but he's gotten to know even the members who were once strangers.

And, best of all — Kurosawa is with him.

Adachi gets to live with Kurosawa. They all have separate dorm rooms (plus Mr. Hirai, in his own room), but Adachi spends so many nights in Kurosawa's room — usually just cuddling and sleeping, or reading manga together, though they'll occasionally make out, which is way more awesome than Adachi could even picture this time two months ago — that if the other members didn't already know what was going on, they'd definitely find out pretty quickly. (Oh, and they do know — Yukito saying "it sure is good that you and your boyfriend weren't separated" in the car back to the dorms after the finale made that crystal clear.) They've yet to tell Mr. Hirai, but so far, none of the other members have, either; RE-1 technically isn't allowed to date, after all. Of course, that doesn't stop Minato, who updates the other members of RE-1 about Tsuge and their cats every chance he gets, or Michael, who has apparently had a girlfriend back home in the UK since before Produce started; the "no dating" rule is more of a "don't get caught dating" rule, anyway.

Adachi feels a familiar tap on his shoulder, and turns around. "Hey," Kurosawa says, with a smile.

"Hey, yourself. How'd your solo shots go?" Adachi asks, briefly letting his eyes flick over Kurosawa's outfit for MAGIC — their concept for this single is "boys next door", and while Kurosawa is way too dazzling to simply be someone's neighbor, he can make even his brightly-colored t-shirt, casual jacket, and jeans look like they're designer.

"Pretty well," Kurosawa replies. He looks around — there's nobody here but camera people and staff members — and decides to casually wrap an arm around Adachi's shoulders. (It could be read as friendly, if somebody caught them.) "It took a while, but all I had to do was think of you, and my facial expressions were just right."

Adachi resists the urge to cover his face, which would definitely mess up his makeup and earn him a scolding from the stylist. MAGIC is a love song — those sell, after all — and he can't say he wasn't thinking of Kurosawa when he recorded his own parts, but it's still a little bit embarrassing to hear Kurosawa say it out loud.

It's a happy kind of embarrassed, though. Adachi moves ever so slightly, just so he can be closer to where Kurosawa's arm is.

"...Want to go practice the dance, before those shots start?" Kurosawa asks. "We could head to the break room you found and go through it. Together. If you wanted."

Adachi nods. "I'd really like that," he says. "Lead the way." The two of them might not have a practice room of their own anymore, but Adachi, as it turns out, is fantastic at finding places they can steal moments for just the two of them. Whether it's to rehearse, or to not rehearse, Adachi doesn't really mind; he's just happy to be in those moments, with the person that he might even love.

He isn't an expendable, or a sacrifice, and Adachi doesn't really feel like one anymore. He doesn't feel like his presence is unnecessary; songs choreographed for eleven members need eleven people to perform them, and Kurosawa needs somebody he can confide in, after all. He's still Adachi Kiyoshi from Tokyo, still 24 for a few months, still so far out of his depth that it feel like he's in outer space —

But he's also Adachi Kiyoshi of RE-1, who is actually Kurosawa Yuichi's boyfriend. Maybe he's in space, but there's a place for him amongst all of these shining celestial bodies — a place right next to the most brilliant star he's ever seen.

Adachi feels like he's flying. This isn't the future he's expected, not at all, but god — he never, ever wants to let go.