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Being the professional idol that she was, Haruka Kiritani spent a great deal of her time watching other idols perform. It was only practical– how was she ever to improve if she didn't study those better than her? So she spent just about every moment of free time that she had watching videos of live performances. Haruka lived, breathed, and dreamed idols. Very few knew as much about the industry as her.
Despite that, Haruka rarely actually attended idol performances. She just didn't have the time, between practice and performance.
But how she wished to. More than anything, she wanted to sit back on the other side of the stage. She wanted to know how her audience felt. She wanted to feel the way that she had been told she made people feel.
She wanted an idol of her own.
When Haruka was approaching fourteen years old, she made it happen. It had taken some convincing, but her agency finally caved.
It only made sense, she said, to become acquainted with the feeling of being in the audience. That way, they could know what to change; if they knew exactly what the audience looked at, they could know what to focus on.
Only she would have to know that she had lied, she decided as herself and the other members of ASRUN rushed into their seats, fiddling with their wigs. They had gone in disguise– after all, Cheerful*Days' management would get all up in arms if an unexpected rival group divided the media attention like that. But they had gotten the best seats available.
Haruka sat in the front row, straight in the middle, and felt her heartbeat through her tongue. She could hear people talking around her, she could see the growing heat of the lights, she could feel the crackling electricity as the stage prepared to hold the performance. Excitement thrummed through the hall, quiet but not understated, the high of waiting to perform without the sickening anxiety. The penlights in Haruka's hands (both blue, since she didn't know enough about this particular unit to pick favorites) felt heavy and strange and exciting. She wanted to take the feeling and put it in a bottle to keep on the shelf.
Then the lights blared, and a set of silhouettes appeared on stage, as if by magic.
And, oh, it was magic.
Music burst out from speakers, perfect notes sang from made-up faces. Along with the rest of the audience, Haruka jumped to her feet like it was instinct, bringing her penlights over her head. It was easy enough, a wide arc for a beat, a sharp snap on the next. But could she be blamed for struggling to stay composed, when her hands shook under the weight of the performance?
When she sat back down, she took a deep breath, and remembered what her job there was.
Each of the girls on stage was brilliant in her own right, and Haruka desperately tried to analyse them equally. To keep her vision fair, to watch them as a group. Because they were all amazing, they all moved in sync, but…
Haruka couldn't help but stare at the girl in the middle.
She didn't know who the center girl was. But she was beautiful. She moved like she was made of water, with a serene smile on her face, with a voice that felt like figure skating– all sweeping, graceful loops and turns. That girl managed to balance perfectly on the edge, reaching out to an image and taking it like she owned it. Haruka had never seen anybody so perfectly embody a feeling. It seemed effortless.
But it wasn’t. Because the closer Haruka looked, the more intensely she stared, the more the cracks showed. Her smile wobbled, her slow movements were tinged with a hint of hesitation. And normally, that would make Haruka less impressed, but…
The second song ended, and Haruka felt like she was pulling herself out of a daze. She turned to her fellow ASRUN member, and asked the most important question of her life.
"Who is she?" She asked, putting emphasis on that last word. She, she, she.
"Which one?"
Haruka's eyes flickered. Why did she feel so ashamed? "The one in the middle– with the blue hair."
"Oh, that's Shizuku Hinomori."
Haruka didn't even think to thank her.
Shizuku. Shizuku Hinomori. Shizuku Hinomori.
"Shizuku," she whispered, the word lost under the atmosphere. That was her name.
For the rest of the performance, Haruka felt as if she was in a trance. The other members became irrelevant annoyances, and she ignored them entirely. She had to look at Shizuku. She had to.
Her penlights burned holes into her wet palms, and her blood ran hot. Was this what her fans felt like? No, they couldn't. Surely this wasn't normal? How could anyone keep this feeling under cover? The intense admiration that bordered on envy, the childlike giddiness she felt every time Shizuku's eyes swept over the row that she sat in the middle of.
Shizuku, Shizuku, Shizuku.
Maybe she was just losing her mind. Maybe she was just too in her head, after waiting so long to see a performance live like this. She could always get near drunk in the presence of a stage. Maybe she needed the terror to hold her down.
She didn't feel held down then. She felt lightheaded, floaty, like if she got up again, she would just drift away and never come back down. Her face was hot and she was certain it was red. No, there was no way she made people feel like this. However she made people feel, this was better. This was so, so much more terrifying, in the best possible way.
Then, Shizuku was leaning down, right in front of her. That long blue hair fell in front of Haruka's face, so close that she could smell it. Shizuku smiled, then held out a hand, eyes on one of Haruka's penlights.
And, oh, she wouldn't dream of saying no.
Her fingers brushed against Shizuku's as she took the penlight, and she felt the sweat on her fingertips. It was proof that the swan, the angel, the goddess, was human. That she was struggling to keep up the act. Haruka wanted, more than anything else, to grab that hand.
But that would be inappropriate. She didn't even know the girl. She was just– that feeling was just the typical craziness of an idol superfan. It would pass. So she pulled her hand to her chest, and made carefully sure not to touch Shizuku again as she took the penlight back. She hadn't even seen why she had taken it.
As she left, the cold air desperately tried to dampen the fires in her heart, but she only wanted to run around her room and giggle into her hand. She wanted to fling herself onto her bed and hug her pillows. She took a deep breath, and allowed herself to smile.
She had certainly found her idol.