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Akira would never tell Daiki, but after receiving the latter’s signature, Akira held it in front of him and stared at it the entire walk home. If he was honest, Daiki’s signature was… weird looking. He was barely able to make out the English letters that made up his name, and they were arranged in an odd order, probably in some sort of homage to Legit’s triangle logo. But still. He kept staring at it, thinking about Legit’s performance.
He entered the bathhouse with it still in hand.
“Did you get his signature?!” his mom’s voice came loudly as she bounded out from behind the counter. She gasped. “You did!”
Akira jolted a little, looking down at the framed signature in his hands. Right, that had been the whole reason he even tried to ask for it in the first place, wasn’t it? His mom wanted to hang it in the bathhouse and draw attention to increase business.
He must have frowned or something. Aya waved a hand in front of his face. “Is something wrong, Akira?”
“Uh, no!” he answered, forcing a small laugh. He held out the signature with one hand, the other adjusting the strap on his bag. “Takao-kun goes to my school, so it was easy to get a hold of him, but it felt weird to ask him, I guess.”
“You’ll have to get used to it,” Aya teased, taking the signature and waving it, “I might just ask you for everyone else’s signatures~”
Akira rolled his eyes. “Since when were you a fan of Legit, anyway, Mom?”
“Since I received the email about you becoming an idol!”
Akira didn’t bother asking her to elaborate. He could only imagine her getting excited by the idea of him becoming an idol, searching the company, and looking into each of Smilea Production’s talents. The weird part was that she picked out Daiki as her favorite… not that Akira could say anything, considering how cool he thought Daiki was himself.
Watching Legit dance at their concert… Akira felt compelled. He’d never been a dancer himself. He didn’t even think dancing could be that fun, and that it was a little embarrassing that he’d have to do it to be an idol. But that performance changed his mind.
His dance opened an entirely new world to Akira. It was hard to explain. It was kind of embarrassing. But it was so cool. Daiki was a hothead. A perfectionist. Someone with a goal and the grit to do it. Nothing like Akira, who ended up training to be an idol by accident. They were the same age, but Daiki had worked hard to get himself to that level. It made Akira want to work hard too. It made Akira a fan.
He looked again at Daiki’s signature, and some part of him didn’t want to let it go. If it was hung up in the bathhouse, he’d still get to see it every day, but a part of him wanted it to be his. He’d been the one to ask Daiki for it after all, and in his fervor he’d neglected to mention that it was for the bathhouse. So really, Daiki had signed it for him. He hadn’t even expected Daiki to oblige him.
“Um, mom,” he started tentatively.
“What is it, honey?” she must have been patient, waiting for him to speak.
“Could I…” he gulped, “Could I actually keep it? The signature.”
A moment’s pause. Then Aya laughed brightly, slapping him on the shoulder before shoving it back into his hands. “Oh, is that all? Of course, Akira! You can just get me another one some other time!”
Then, more mischievously, she nudged him with an elbow. “So you’re a fan of Daiki, too?”
“Mom!” he groaned, stomping past her to get to his room.
“Which reminds me!” Aya called out, “Come up with your own signature soon, Akira! I need to hang it on the wall next to a picture of you, okay?!”
He flushed, quickly dashing up the stairs. “I-I’ll think about it!”