Work Text:
“I’m sorry, I just can’t hear your heart in it.”
Niji scowls at his water bottle as the words keep playing in his mind, a perpetual loop that’s lasted for nearly three hours now. He’s been glaring holes into the plain white walls of the music show waiting room for about as long, only getting up from the uncomfortable vinyl couch once or twice to get water.
“I’m sorry, I just can’t-“
Crack!
Niji looks down and curses as he sees he’s squeezed the water bottle in his hands so hard that the plastic has split. Water spills over his fingers and he rushes to move it away from his body before it drips onto his stage costume. He manages to avoid the worst of it, though the floor under his feet isn’t so lucky.
“Niji!” Reiju hisses, standing from the couch opposite him.
“Dude,” Yonji says, glancing up from his phone and raising an eyebrow at the slowly growing puddle under Niji’s feet.
“Shut up,” Niji snaps, though there’s no heat in it.
“Soak it up.” Reiju tosses a roll of paper towels at his head before swiping the water bottle from his hands and taking it over to the recycling bin.
Niji grumbles but unrolls some of the paper towels and rips them off before wadding it up into a messy ball and dropping it on the wet area. Immediately the towels begin to soak through, turning into a dripping pulpy mess when he tries to pick them up. It takes a few rounds of ripping off more towels and mopping up the spill before the floor is dry again.
“I’m sorry, I just can’t hear your heart in it.”
“Damn it!” Niji growls, throwing the last clump of paper towels into the trash can with a dull, wet thunk.
“What crawled up your ass and died?” Yonji asks when Niji glances back at him.
“Nothing,” Niji grits out, stomping back over to the couch and sitting down heavily on it.
Reiju rolls her eyes. “Is this still about-?”
“No!” Niji cuts her off.
“About what?” Yonji turns to their sister.
“Mr. Sunshine here met the nation’s sweetheart this morning and she told him he was a bitter little shithead,” Reiju deadpans.
“She did not say that!” Niji snaps.
“Woah, you guys met Uta?!” Yonji asks, eyes wide, “When did that happen?! Why wasn’t I there?!”
“You were in makeup,” Reiju says, “And we were shooting a video for TikTok. She walked by while we were filming.”
“And that’s when she called Niji a shithead?” Yonji asks, eyes shining. “You got it on camera?!”
“She did not call me a shithead!” Niji asserts. And she hadn’t. Probably only because she was far too nice for something like that, but still.
“She didn’t call him a shithead,” Reiju allows, “At least not verbally. But yes, we did get it on camera.”
“You’re the one who’s full of shit,” Niji mutters.
Yonji’s head whips between the two of them. “Wait, what happened then?”
“Well we obviously greeted her when she walked past,” Reiju says, “Then this dumbass here had the bright idea to ask her to monitor one of our performances.”
“Wow, you actually had the balls to do that?” Yonji asks, gaping at Niji.
“It’s not like I ordered her to or anything!” Niji huffs, “I just said it would be nice to get her opinion. I didn’t even swear!”
“And we’re all very proud that you didn’t cuss out the most popular idol in the country,” Reiju says dryly. “But yeah, anyway Niji asks her for her opinion. At first I think she’s just going to tell us she’s busy, but she actually whips out her phone and starts watching our last live performance right in the middle of the hallway.”
“Holy shit, what?!” Yonji blurts.
“Yeah, that’s what I almost said,” Niji says.
“Did she like it? Hate it? Did she say anything about any of us? Did she say anything about me?!” Yonji’s practically leaning all the way out of his chair now, and Niji darkly hopes his stupid brother actually overbalances and falls on his face.
Reiju snorts. “She was very kind about it, and said she thinks we have a lot power in our voices. She complimented how stable we were while dancing too.”
“Holy shit,” Yonji breathes, sitting back in his chair.
“But she also gave us some advice,” Reiju says, “She said we need to work on our expressions, Ichiji especially-“
Yonji laughs, “Yeah, like that’s going to happen. We could win the Best Album at the Grand Line Music Awards and he’d still look like he dropped his sandwich in a gutter.”
“She said I should probably work on having more energy when I take center, which is fair,” Reiju continues, “And she said that you need to work looking at the camera while you sing.”
“That’s all pretty good advice though,” Yonji says, nodding. He glances at Niji. “So what pissed you off so bad?”
Reiju’s grin turns evil. “Well, Miss Uta said that our lovely brother here-“
“Shut the fuck up,” Niji hisses.
She does not shut the fuck up, instead continuing even louder, “Our lovely brother here needs to work on connecting with the fans and feeling the emotions of the songs.”
“Huh?” Yonji blinks, “That doesn’t sound too bad-“
“She said his heart wasn’t in it,” Reiju says. “He’s too aggressive and it might be off-putting to the fans.”
Yonji’s mouth opens and closes before he laughs. “Yeah, she definitely called you a shithead. Wow, I can’t believe she picked up on that so fast!”
“Fuck you!” Niji snaps, hurling one of the decorative couch pillows at his brother.
Yonji bats it away, still laughing. “See, you’re being aggressive again! We’re gonna lose all our fans once they realize your such a raging pile of-!”
Niji grabs the other decorative pillow an makes to throw it as well.
“What’s going on here?” Ichiji enters the room then, hair freshly gelled up and makeup recently applied. He glances around the room, frowning as he notices Niji mid-motion about to hurl another pillow at the youngest.
“Uta said that Niji’s an angry little man!” Yonji blurts.
Ichiji’s eyebrows raise. “Uta? Like the Uta?”
“Yeah!” Yonji breaks into laughter again. Ichiji glances at Reiju for confirmation, but she just nods like the traitor she is.
He turns to Niji then. “Did you thank her for her feedback?”
Both Reiju and Yonji break into horrible hyena laughter at that because they’re terrible siblings and he hates them so fucking much.
“Fuck you!”
“No, fuck you,” Ichiji replies tonelessly, “And don’t throw things at Yonji. If hair and makeup has to touch him up again they’re going to get pissed at us.”
Niji scowls but lets the pillow fall back onto the couch with an unsatisfying thud. He crosses his arms over his chest. “What the hell does she know anyway?”
Honestly he’s not even mad about the fact that she said he was aggressive. Everyone already knew that, even their fans, and some of them were actually into it. He knew he struggled with anger. It’d been a part of him ever since the day his father had first lifted a hand against him, and despite his best efforts he knew it wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.
No, it was the other part that bothered him. Her saying his heart wasn’t in it was, well, honestly he would have rather she just spit in his face.
Niji had sacrificed so damn much alongside his siblings to break into the idol industry including (but certainly not limited to) insane diets, sleepless nights, and more than a good chunk of their inheritance from their mother. They’d made their bones busking on sidewalks and handing out flyers for their tiny shows, often performing for only a handful of people whose curiosity they’d managed to pique. It’d been a hard road without the labels and sponsors that most other idols had backing them, but none of them had been willing to crawl back to their father’s company after the shit he’d put them all through as child stars.
And they’d fucking made it.
They’d done the impossible and clawed their way up from the bottom on their own terms, scraping together funds for music show performances and album recordings by the skin of their teeth. And Niji was proud of that. They’d shown their old bastard of a father that they didn’t need him and his money to be successful, that they could rise up and challenge his empire through sheer spite and determination. Niji had poured quite literally his blood, sweat, and tears into being an idol and he wore that like a goddamn badge of honor.
And well…
He’d never admit it aloud, would probably kill anyone who ever found out, but part of what had gotten him through those nights when they were crashing on park benches and scrambling to record songs in the measly hour they’d managed to rent a studio booth for, was Uta. It’s embarrassing to think about, but she had always been an idol Niji had looked up to.
Her story, splashed across nearly every magazine on the racks at the grocery store, was something Niji could relate to. She hadn’t been scouted by major labels for her looks or had the money to strong-arm her way into an agency. Instead she’d found an audience through social media, racking up a follower count through her regular lives where she’d interact with all her fans and performances she’d filmed in what were clearly empty school classrooms, parking garages and even her own bedroom.
She was bright and charismatic, the kind of girl that everyone wanted to be their best friend, and shining with so much potential that it took Niji’s breath away. When she’d finally managed to make it to a televised music show she’d immediately swept the votes, racking up win after win with every comeback. Her songs soared up the charts, and before long she was the darling of the nation with sponsors and brand deals in spades and an army of fans streaming her songs on every platform imaginable.
In any other situation Niji probably would have been jealous of such immediate and overwhelming success, but instead he was just… proud. He admired the girl from the middle of nowhere who had managed to trounce all those other idols with their fancy companies and industry connections. She’d showed him it was possible to make a name for himself even if he had nothing to fall back on.
So for her to tell him she couldn’t hear his heart in his music…
“Probably a lot,” Reiju says, answering his previous question and snapping Niji out of his thoughts, “Considering she’s been holding the top spot on the Billboard charts for three weeks and counting.”
“Yeah dude, she definitely knows more than us,” Yonji says. His expression turns dreamy. “I bet she looked cute though. Her current comeback has her wearing those little angel wings on all her stages, right?”
“You have less than zero chance with her,” Reiju snorts.
“I can dream, can’t I?”
“She’s overrated,” Niji mutters. He tries not to think too hard about all the albums of hers he has downloaded on his phone or the exclusive physical copies he has tucked in a box under his bed. He thinks about deleting the songs and trashing the albums briefly, but immediately his brain rejects the thought, which only makes him angrier.
“Be polite to our seniors,” Ichiji says, sitting down on the couch next to Niji and flicking him on the forehead. “The last thing we need right now is a scandal, and god knows the hell we’d get if you were overheard insulting the top idol in the nation.”
Reiju shudders at that. “God, can you imagine all her fans coming down on us? We’d be blacklisted right out of the industry.”
Ichiji gives Niji a hard look. “You aren’t going to have a problem, are you?”
Niji scowls but says, “No.”
“Good,” Ichiji says, “Now get your ass to hair and makeup. Maybe they can paint a smile on your face so you don’t scare all our fans again.”
Niji flips the older off and stands from the couch. “Fuck you, I hope your voice cracks on your solo.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ichiji waves him off.
Niji stomps out of the room and down the hall to hair and makeup, still fuming. Part of him is mad at his siblings, part of him is mad at Uta, and part of him (the largest part) is mad at himself. Despite his outward anger at the top idol, he can’t help the niggling doubt she planted in his mind.
Is his performance really that empty?
Germa’s music show stage goes off without a hitch. They do well votes and ratings-wise, but it’s not enough to get a win. Not that any of them expected it since Uta is promoting simultaneously. She wins by a landslide, presented with the award and a shower of confetti as she waves and thanks her fans. The whole time Niji has to make a conscious effort not to glare at her back since, as much as he hates to admit that his brother his right, they really don’t need a scandal if a fan site manages to catch him shooting dirty looks at the industry’s “it girl”.
He’s grateful when all the other idol groups are directed off the stage to give Uta her solo performance, impatiently trying to file off with the rest of the crowd. Unfortunately he can’t totally control his impulses, and ends up shooting a glance over his shoulder at Uta anyway.
She’s…
He hates to admit that she still looks beautiful, shining under the stage lights like a star. Even the cheesy angel wings look ethereal as she beams at the crowd. Her voice rings out across the stage, bright and clear, and Niji hates the way his heart still flips in his chest hearing it. He forces his eyes back down at his feet until he manages to get off the stage.
“That went well!” Yonji hums happily once the make it back to their changing room, “I think we had a bigger turnout for our stage this time!”
Reiju nods. “Hopefully that means we might get a tour soon.”
“I’ve been talking to our manager about it,” Ichiji adds, “It’ll depend on how well this album does.”
Reiju throws Niji a glance. “You’re being pretty quiet over there. Should I be calling a doctor or a priest?”
“Ha ha,” Niji mutters, pulling off the flashy jacket he’d been wearing. He hangs it up quickly before starting to pull off the numerous pieces of jewelry he’d been given.
“Are you still hung up on what Uta said?” Reiju sighs, “You know she probably wasn’t trying to give you a crisis or whatever.”
“I’m not,” Niji says, dropping one of the heavy rings on the dressing room table with more force than necessary.
“You totally are,” Yonji laughs, “You were never able to handle pretty girls criticizing you.”
“You’re one to talk!” Niji snaps, a bit more harshly than intended. The air in the changing room shifts.
“Everyone calm down,” Ichiji says, using his authoritative tone that they all usually called his ‘leader voice’. “Yonji, Reiju, drop it. Niji…” He frowns, “You need to be able to take criticism from our seniors. She took the time to watch our performance and give feedback.”
Niji lets out a harsh breath. “Yeah. I know.”
Ichiji nods, taking it as the admission it is. “Go get some fresh air. We have to tape for the variety show later, so go burn off… whatever’s going on with you.”
“Yeah, okay,” Niji mutters, heading out of the dressing room. He’s still wearing part of his stage costume (including the flashy goggles their stylist had decided on for some goddamn reason), but Niji can’t bring himself to care much.
He heads for the studio’s back door that lead to a gated off area behind the building that fans couldn’t get into or see from the front. A lot of times idols headed back to the area to smoke (something that would definitely get them in trouble if they were spotted), but was also a good place to get some fresh air without worrying about DSLR telescoping lenses or putting on a smile.
Niji’s lucky enough to find the place deserted, and he sits down on the old bench the studio has left pressed up against the building. He leans back against the concrete exterior and runs a hand through his hair, not caring that he’s messing up the careful styling their team had perfected.
“I’m sorry, I just can’t hear your heart in it.”
“Fuck.”
It’s then that he finally admits to himself that beneath the initial outrage and indignation he’d felt at Uta’s words he’s hurt. It’s painful to realize that someone he’d admired for so long thinks he’s lacking in the profession he’s worked so hard for. The same person whose music got him through some of the lowest points in his life thought he didn’t have the same drive in his own songs.
He knows it’s ridiculous (and potentially even indicative of a previously unknown parasocial relationship he’d formed with the idol) to be so affected by what was probably just honest and well-intentioned criticism, but he can’t help the disappointment he feels. It’s not like he expected her to be blown away by their stuff - they are still just a recently debuted rookie group - but he’d wanted… something. Some kind of recognition in their potential and maybe the encouragement to one day be able to stand on the same level as her.
Fuck, he really was being ridiculous. He should just take his siblings’ advice and be grateful that Uta deigned to speak with them at all. So many other senior idols in the industry had blatantly snubbed them before, he should be happy that she even took the time to-
“Shit!”
Niji jerks back as the door next to the bench swings open unexpectedly, the jarring screech shocking him out of his thoughts. He whips around, a scowl already on his lips, “Who the hell-?!”
His mouth snaps shut almost immediately when he spots the new arrival.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize someone else was out here!” Uta apologizes, bowing slightly.
Every neuron in Niji’s brain fizzles, leaving him gaping at her like a fish. She starts to look a bit concerned after a few seconds of silence, and Niji mentally slaps himself. He’s already embarrassed himself once in front of this woman, he’s not about to do it again.
“I can leave if you want,” he manages.
“Oh no, you don’t have to!” Uta says waving her hands, “I just- I can go back in!” She looks just as embarrassed as Niji feels, a light flush painting her cheeks pink.
Cute
Niji shoves the stray thought away. As torn up as he had been about Uta before, he really has no desire to disrupt what was probably a rare opportunity for her to relax. Despite everything, she was still someone he deeply respected.
He makes to stand. “No, I can-“
“Oh wait, we met before, didn’t we?” Uta says, making Niji freeze.
He’s under no illusions, Uta probably meets dozens of people regularly, from staff to fans to fellow celebrities. Even if Niji had been devastated by his earlier encounter with Uta, he’d never entertained the thought that she might remember him the same way. He’d probably just be one more junior idol in a veritable sea of starry eyed rookies who’d idolized her.
‘She probably just remembers because we talked earlier today. You’re not special,’ Niji thinks before he can entertain any sort of delusions.
“We did,” he says aloud, “Surprised you remember that.”
She laughs, and he inwardly marvels at how even that sounds like music. “Of course! Your stage outfits made quite an impact! They’re based on super sentai heroes, right? I think that’s very unique!” She waves a hand at him, and Niji is suddenly very aware that he’s still wearing some of his stupid stage costume.
“Uh, yeah,” Niji says, a flush of embarrassment going through him. “Our manager thought it was a good idea.” Actually he’s pretty sure Nami just did it because she was taking the piss, but he wasn’t about to say as much.
“So many groups go for more hardcore concepts these days,” Uta continues obliviously, “You guys really stand out!”
“I guess,” Niji replies. A couple neurons in his brain finally fire in unison and he manages to follow up with, “Your performance today was pretty impressive as well.”
She smiles, finally relaxing and walking outside fully and shutting the door behind her. “Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Her expression falters then and she bites her lip. “You know, I actually lied.”
Niji blinks. “Huh?”
“I knew you’d be out here,” Uta admits, and Niji’s brain spins. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable and thought pretending it was a coincidence would be better. I… It was kind a stupid idea, now that I think about it.”
“What?”
“I ran into your sister in the bathroom,” Uta says, “She said that some of the things I said to you earlier might have… come across in ways I didn’t intend.”
Holy shit. Niji is going to murder Reiju.
It was one thing for his siblings to know that he was hung up on Uta’s earlier critique. It was another thing entirely for Uta to know he’d been so affected by it. The embarrassment returns tenfold, soul crushing in a way that makes Niji want to sprint headlong off a cliff. After he murders Reiju, of course.
“I- I didn’t-“ Niji searches for anything he might be able to say to rectify the situation, but comes up empty. He’s not used to being so flustered, and he’s sure he looks pretty stupid with his panicked flailing, but he can’t seem to stop.
“No, I wanted to apologize,” Uta says, looking truly contrite. Niji swears even the plastic angel wings she’s wearing somehow look like they’re drooping. “Sometimes I have trouble saying the things I mean. My friend Luffy teases me all the time for it.”
“Huh?” Niji says, because really that’s all he can say when the nation’s top idol is apologizing to him of all people.
“I think I came off more critical than I should have,” Uta continues, “When I said I couldn’t hear your heart I meant that… well, it’s hard to explain.” Her face screws up in an expression that Niji is devastated to find is still cute.
“I think what you meant was pretty clear,” Niji says, though he tries not to make it sound too harsh, “You thought I needed to work on putting more of my heart into it.”
To his surprise, Uta shakes her head vehemently. “No, no, that’s not it!” She blows out a breath, making her red and white bangs flutter. “It’s just… I feel like I get a lot of anger from you when you sing.”
Niji grimaces. Well, she wasn’t wrong. “I’ve been told that’s something I need to work on too.”
“No, not that way either! I just-! Ugh!” She stamps her foot, and Niji thinks that he really needs to do something about the way every little thing about her only endears him even more because it’s really not fair at this point. “You just don’t look happy when you sing.”
“What?”
Niji’s pretty confused now considering, well, it should be obvious that he’s not visibly happy when he sings. His group hasn’t yet attempted any cute concept songs that would require them to smile while they perform (which is probably for the best since their smiles have been called ‘shitty’ and ‘deranged’ in the past by their other brother Sanji who’d refused to join the industry), nor are they really expected to smile at their off stage promotions. Part of the benefit of their group having such an outlandish concept is that they weren’t expected to do as much fan service as other idol groups.
“I can’t explain it,” Uta says, frustrated, “It’s like… I feel like you aren’t singing for yourself.”
What is she even saying?
“What? Who am I singing for then?” Niji asks, honestly baffled.
“That’s what I want to know!” Uta cries, clearly taking even herself off guard by how loud she’s shouted. She flushes again and lowers her voice. “I just mean that when I watched you perform it felt like you were trying to prove something to someone else, you know? Like you were performing out of anger rather than for your own happiness.”
The words hit home like a kick to the chest, knocking the breath out of Niji in an instant. In that moment he feels so unexpectedly seen that it makes him want to dig a hole to hide in. How the hell had she figured that out after watching just one clip of him? Was he that obvious? Did he have a tattoo on his forehead that read ‘I have unresolved daddy issues’?
“I’m sorry, I just can’t hear your heart in it.”
“I…” The words refuse to come out.
Uta immediately backtracks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to touch on something so personal. I’m sure you have your reasons for performing, and I have no right to judge why other people stand on stage.” She offers him a smile then, one that has his body warming in a completely different way. “Although… I can honestly say that I’m glad you’re up there.”
“You… are?” Niji asks.
She nods, beaming. “I think you and your siblings are very talented. You’ve all clearly worked hard, and you have a unique sort of sound I want to hear more of. I just hope that one day you can feel as free on stage as you’re supposed to.”
Niji feels a confusing swirl of emotions mixing in his chest. “I…”
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Both of them flinch as a tinny alarm pierces the air.
“Ah, sorry!” Uta fishes her phone out of her pocket and taps it to quiet the alarm. She shoots Niji an apologetic look. “I have to get back to my manager. It was nice talking with you though, Niji.”
‘Holy shit, she remembers my name,’ Niji thinks absently.
“I hope we can meet on stage again soon!” And with one more photo-worthy smile Uta is gone in a flash of red and white, leaving a stunned Niji in her wake.
For a few seconds Niji can only stand there, gaping bug-eyed at the spot she’d once been. Had that really happened? Had the top idol in the industry really just come out, apologized, laser targeted one of his deepest insecurities, and then complimented him and said she hoped to see him again before leaving?
Holy shit, there are people out there who were willing to kill for a five minute FaceTime with Uta, and he’d just had a full conversation with her! Well, sort of. He’d kind of just goggled at her like an idiot as she’d spoken, but still!
Niji’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and he fishes it out on auto-pilot.
Reiju
Did you die out there or something?
It takes a second to process the message fully, but when Niji does he finds his fingers flying over the keyboard
Me
i’m gonna kill u
Reiju
Oh good, you’re alive
Get your ass back to the changing room or we’re leaving without you
Me
i can’t believe u told uta about me!!!
Reiju
Oh, did she actually find you?
Me
yeah!!!
Reiju
You’re welcome then, you ungrateful brat
Me
fuck u
Reiju
Yeah, yeah, get your ass back here or you can walk to our next taping
Niji curses as he shoves his phone back in his pocket and quickly stands. He strides over to the door and yanks it open, storming down the hallways back toward the changing room. Luckily he runs into no one along the way, as he’s sure his expression is thunderous with a mix of outrage and confusion.
“Reiju!” He barks as he slams open the changing room door.
“My dear charming little brother,” Reiju deadpans, giving him an unimpressed look from where she’s sitting on the couch, “Get your ass changed.”
“You told Uta-!”
“Later,” Ichiji says, cutting them off. “Niji, you need to change. We have to be at the next location in less than an hour and it takes at least thirty minutes to get there.”
As much as Niji would love to cuss Reiju out, he knows the reprimand from their manager will be even more severe if they’re late to their next scheduled appointment. He still grumbles as he grabs his casual clothes though and moves to the bathroom to quickly change.
Ten minutes later they’re all grabbing their bags and heading out the door, Nami already giving them a rundown of what their next schedule entails and who they’ll be meeting for it. Niji shoots Reiju a few dirty looks during it, but she just winks back at him and blows him a fake kiss that makes him gag. Unfortunately he’s not even given time to have it out with her in the car, Nami having organized two separate cars to be taking them to their next appointment and Niji getting shoved into one with Yonji while Reiju and Ichiji take the other.
Niji sulks in the back as buckles his seatbelt before crossing his arms. He knows he’s being childish, but really he thinks he’s allowed to considering the current circumstances. Yonji, unfortunately, doesn’t read the atmosphere (or at least blatantly ignores it) and instead begins pestering Niji the moment they’re both strapped in.
“So, what was Uta like? You got to talk to her again, right?” Yonji asks, eyes shining.
“Shut up,” Niji snaps.
“What did she say? Did she mention me?”
“I said shut up!”
Yonji’s grin turns mischievous. “Did she fix up your bruised ego?”
“Wh-?”
“Did you ask her to kiss it and make it better-?”
“I’ll kill you!” Niji lunges at his brother to do just that, but Yonji holds him back at arms length with a single hand and laughs in his face.
“Keep it down back there, dumbasses, unless you want me to get in a wreck!” Nami yells from the driver’s seat.
Niji forces himself to stop trying to commit fratricide, though he’s still itching to do so. “You’re fucking disgusting.”
“Probably not as disgusting as the thoughts you’ve had about Uta,” Yonji hums, “What was your fan fiction account name again?”
Niji immediately flushes bright red. “I was fifteen.”
“I think it was utalover66-“
Not even Nami’s repeated yelling after that is enough to keep Niji from trying to strangle Yonji with his own seatbelt.