Chapter Text
Ever since I was a baby, I was raised by two other people besides my Mom and Dad.
Nagi-san and Taiga-ojisan…
They’re not my blood-related aunt and uncle, but they might as well be!
I especially wanted to make Nagi-san smile.
Dad, her, and Taiga-san had to retire music early because of her poor health, and even though no one blamed her, I knew she felt sad anyway.
So, I was always trying to think of ways to cheer her up—like singing!
There wasn’t really much I could do since I was little and inexperienced, but she smiled anyways.
And one day, the three of them took me to a show—different from ones they usually took me to.
It wasn’t in Vivid Street, wasn’t in a livehouse, wasn’t street music!
But I’ll never forget what happened that day…
The theater was enormous.
If she thought the livehouses were big, then this theatre was absolutely humongous.
That was the first thing little An registered as they stepped inside—how the ceiling seemed impossibly high, how the lights were able to brighten the massive space, how the air itself felt different from what she was used to.
Her small hand tightened around her father’s as her gaze darted everywhere at once, trying and failing to take it all in.
“Whoa…” she gasped, craning her neck so far back she nearly tipped over.
Taiga noticed immediately and let out a low laugh, nudging Nagi with his elbow. “Look at her,” he said, amused. “She’s gonna strain her neck before we even sit down.”
Ken chuckled too and reached down to steady An by resting a hand on her head. “Careful there,” he said. “Big places don’t get any smaller just because you stare harder.”
“But it’s huge!” An protested, eyes still sparkling as she spun in place. “Why is it so big? What are we doing here?”
Taiga leaned down and ruffled her hair without warning, fingers quick and playful. “You’ll see,” he said easily, straightening back up with a grin.
An pouted for half a second, then immediately forgot she was supposed to be annoyed as they were ushered further inside.
Plush red carpeting stretched beneath their feet, muffling every step, and the walls were lined with gold-trimmed lights that made everything feel grand. It felt like stepping into another world—one that existed just beyond her everyday life.
They found their seats a few rows from the front. An was guided into the space between Ken and Nagi, her feet dangling above the floor as she settled in. She swung them back and forth, humming softly to herself.
The lights dimmed.
The chatter around them softened, fading into a hush that made An’s heart start beating faster for reasons she couldn’t explain. A curtain loomed ahead, and when the music started—the curtain rose.
An’s breath caught.
Her eyes widened, reflecting the stage lights as if they’d ignited something inside her.
It’s so… amazing.
Color flooded the stage. Dancers moved in perfect harmony, costumes shimmering as they performed. Yet even that was a mere background to the main performer—the star of the show.
“So cool!” she blurted out, clapping her hands without realizing it. “Nagi-san, Nagi-san! Did you see that? Did you see how cool that was?!”
Nagi laughed softly beside her, eyes fixed on the stage. “Yes, An,” she said. “It’s really, really cool.”
An turned to look at her—and froze.
(Nagi-san is smiling…!)
Not the small smile she wore most days, tired but wanting to hide it to seem stronger for An, but a wide, genuine smile that reached her eyes. Her shoulders were relaxed, her gaze bright, as if she were soaking in every moment.
(I haven’t seen Nagi-san smile like this in forever!)
An’s chest fluttered. She looked to her other side, where her father sat leaning forward slightly, eyes intent on the stage, lips curved upward in a small smile. Taiga, too, was watching with easy enjoyment, tapping his fingers lightly against his knee in time with the music.
And something clicked.
Usually, when they watched live shows—when musicians played in small venues or on street corners—there was a different feeling in the air. A quiet longing. A pull toward the stage, toward the lights, like the three of them were thinking the same thing: I want to be up there.
But this was different.
They weren’t longing.
They were just… enjoying it.
The joy radiating from the stage was complete, self-sufficient, filling the theater until there was no room left for envy or ache—only awe.
(Hehe, the main performer’s singing and dancing is putting a huge smile on everyone’s face!)
(That’s why they call the lead a star…)
The performance flowed seamlessly from one scene to the next. Time blurred. An clapped until her hands tingled, gasped at dramatic turns, laughed when the audience laughed. She leaned forward so often her dad had to gently tug her back by the collar of her shirt so she wouldn’t fall off the seat.
At some point, during a quieter interlude, she caught snippets of conversation behind her.
“This is so much fun,” Nagi murmured to Taiga. “I never want it to end.”
Taiga scoffed lightly, though he was smiling. “Nagi, don’t be ridiculous.”
“Hm,” she hummed, unfazed. “But I do wish we could watch this more often. Though…” She glanced sideways, fondness softening her expression. “Ken has little baby An, a wife, and a cafe to take care of—hehe.”
“And you,” Taiga added gently, “have to go to the doctor every now and then.”
An’s ears burned as she listened, heart thumping.
She stared back at the stage, but the music faded into the background as a thought took root, growing fast and fierce.
(…I know!)
(If Nagi-san can’t go to the show… then I’ll bring the show to her.)
The idea felt big. It made her chest buzz with excitement, even though she didn’t yet know how or when or what it would look like.
She was snapped out of her thoughts when Ken leaned over and gently ruffled her hair, fingers warm and familiar.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “You looked pretty deep in thought there, An.”
“Dad!” An huffed, swatting at his hand half-heartedly, cheeks puffed out.
He laughed under his breath. “Sorry, sorry.”
An straightened in her seat, eyes blazing with determination as she looked back toward the stage.
“I know what I want to do!”
— Some years later —
/ Shiraishi Household /
“Good morning!!” she called out as she took the last few steps two at a time.
In the kitchen, Ken was standing by the counter with a mug of coffee, and Yuka was moving between the stove and the table with practiced ease. The smell of warm rice and miso filled the room, familiar and comforting.
“Morning, An,” Yuka said, smiling as she set the breakfast down on the table. “Sit before it gets cold.”
An slid into her chair, practically vibrating as she grabbed her chopsticks. “Thanks, Mom!”
Ken glanced over the rim of his mug, one eyebrow lifting. “We could hear you from all the way down here,” he said. “What’s the occasion?”
An froze for exactly half a second before groaning dramatically. “Daddd,” she whined. “Did you forget? My audition is today! I had to warm up my vocal cords.”
Ken blinked. “…Right. Sorry, kid. Your old man is getting—well, old.”
Yuka immediately elbowed him in the side.
“Ow,” Ken muttered.
“It’s not that,” Yuka said, shooting him a look before turning back to An. “Wasn’t it an interview? For that new part-time job at the amusement park?”
“Not an interview,” An corrected, lifting her chin proudly. “An audition! Sounds cooler that way.”
She grinned wide, and both of her parents exchanged a look—one of those wordless ones that spoke volumes. Yuka had to bite her lip to keep from laughing, mumbling under her breath, “That’s your kid, alright.”
Ken chuckled and set his mug down. “We’re just glad you’re one step closer to becoming a star,” he said. “Like you’ve always talked about.”
An paused mid-bite.
Ken tilted his head, thoughtful. “Actually… remind me. When did you start wanting to do that again?”
“Ahaha…” An laughed awkwardly, eyes darting to the side. “Why did I want to be a star, actually…? It’s because—because…” Her voice trailed off.
She frowned, chopsticks hovering uselessly over her breakfast.
“I’m not sure now.”
Yuka noticed immediately and nudged Ken with her elbow, softer this time. “Help your kid out,” she whispered. Ken just shrugged, Yuka sighed before thinking for a moment.
“Well,” Yuka said aloud, turning back to An with a teasing smile, “maybe it’s because your father liked to call you a superstar? Or was it starlight?”
“No, no, no,” An said quickly, waving her hands. “I swear it wasn’t that! I’m just having a weird memory issue—school and all’s been messing with it, yeah!”
She laughed again, louder this time, as if volume could smooth over the strange feeling in her chest.
“It’s because it’d be bad to let my awesome talent, and Dad and Nagi-san’s training go to waste!”
Ken hummed skeptically. “Reeeally?” he said, dragging the word out. “Because if that were the case, I’d expect you to be doing street music by now.”
An stiffened for a split second.
Then Ken shrugged. “Actually, when you put it that way… yeah. That makes sense to me.”
An’s face lit up instantly. “You get me, Dad!”
Ken grinned.
“And that’s why I have to be more than ready for this audition!” An declared, fist clenched in determination. “And I pretty much already am!”
She took a bite of breakfast, nodding to herself.
Then she froze.
“…Huh?” She tilted her head. “Did my phone light up?”
Yuka sighed the second An reached into her pocket. “No phones at the table.”
“I know, I know,” An said absently, already pulling it out. “Just a quick check—”
She frowned at the screen.
“No new messages… that’s weird.”
She stared at it a moment longer than necessary, thumb hovering as if expecting something to appear if she waited long enough.
(Seriously, though… Why did I want to become a star, anyway? Why didn’t I just—never mind…)
(But I feel like I’m forgetting something really important here…)
Her eyes flicked back to the screen.
“What’s this?” she murmured. “Untitled…?”
Before she could question it further, the screen flared.
A blinding white light burst outward, swallowing her vision whole.
“Eeh!?”
/ ??? /
“Huh…?”
An’s voice echoed faintly as she turned in a slow circle, trying to ground herself in whatever this place was.
The floor beneath her feet was smooth and wide, marked faintly like a stage—lines and seams just visible enough to notice if you were looking.
Above her, lights hung suspended in midair, some tilted at odd angles, others half-buried behind oversized props. Spotlights flickered, then steadied, bathing everything in warm color.
“Is this a stage…?”
Her heart was still racing, but now confusion was beginning to outweigh panic.
“Okay… okay,” she muttered. “So I was eating with my parents, and then I played that song, and suddenly—”
She gestured vaguely at the space around her.
“—this.”
Her brow furrowed. “Is this a fever dream?”
She took a few cautious steps forward. Around her, strange-looking stage props of all sizes were scattered as if someone had emptied an entire storage room (more like Doraemon's pouch) onto the floor.
A basket of sunflowers, a bird-cage, a sword with fire motives, a snake holding a screwdriver? Really random stuff.
“What kind of show are they performing here…?” she murmured.
As she wandered deeper, the sense of familiarity crept in again, stronger than before. It wasn’t like remembering a specific place. It was more like recognizing a feeling—like hearing a song you didn’t remember learning but somehow knew all the words to.
“And why does this place feel a bit familiar…?”
Before she could follow that thought any further, a bright, cheerful voice rang out across the stage.
“Yaho—An!”
An spun around so fast she nearly lost her balance.
Standing atop one of the props, waving enthusiastically, was a girl with long turquoise hair tied into twin tails with two suspiciously cat-shaped buns on the base.
An’s eyes went wide.
“Hatsune Miku?!”
Miku hopped down lightly, landing in front of her with a grin.
“Don’t forget about me!”
An’s jaw dropped further as another figure stepped out from behind the curtains.
“Eh?” An squeaked. “KAITO?!”
Both of them were smiling at her—like this was the most normal meeting in the world.
“Both of you are Virtual Singers, right?” An said quickly, pointing between them. “So… I am having a fever dream! Holy shit, when did I even fall asleep?”
Miku waved her hands frantically. “Nonononono! That’s not it at all!”
“This is your SEKAI, An,” Miku said, her tone suddenly gentle but firm.
“…My what now?”
KAITO nodded, stepping closer. “This SEKAI is a world that was born from your feelings.”
An stared at him.
“…Born from my feelings,” she repeated slowly. “What feelings exactly?!”
She laughed once, almost in disbelief. “Because last I checked, my feelings don’t include weird stages and you two just casually hanging out.”
“That’s what Miku and I are here for,” KAITO said calmly. “To help you find your true feelings.”
“And once that happens,” Miku added brightly, “songs will be born from them!”
“…Ah.” An blinked. “Yes, yes. I— understand?”
She paused.
“…I think?”
Miku froze.
Just for a moment, her smile faltered. Her eyes widened slightly, and she turned toward KAITO, lowering her voice.
“Oh,” she murmured. “Oh dear.”
KAITO leaned in. “What is it?”
“KAITO,” Miku whispered, “she doesn’t remember the thing.”
KAITO stiffened.
“Oh no.”
An’s head snapped up. “Huh? What thing?”
Both of them looked back at her, and for the first time since she’d arrived, there was something like hesitation in their expressions.
“You—” KAITO started, then stopped himself.
“…Never mind,” Miku said quickly, forcing a smile. “You should figure it out later.”
She stepped closer, placing her hands lightly over An’s clenched fists. Her touch was warm, grounding.
“But if this SEKAI makes you feel anything at all,” Miku said, “please hold onto it.”
“W-wait!” An said. “Hold on—what do you mean figure it out later?!”
That very bright white light from earlier swallowed the stage, the props, Miku and KAITO’s faces blurring as the glow intensified.
“Wait—!” An shouted.
And then—
She was sitting upright in her bed.
Her phone lay beside her, screen dark and unassuming. The familiar sounds of her house drifted in from downstairs.
“…Huh?”
She looked around her room, heart still pounding. Posters on the wall. Her shelve with her mint plants. Everything exactly where it should be.
“Did I… fall asleep?” she muttered. She rubbed her face with both hands, groaning. “And that weird fever dream too…”
For a split second, she could’ve sworn she heard distant music.
Then—
“Oi, An!” her dad’s voice called from downstairs. “You’re gonna be late for your audition thing!”
An jolted upright.
“Ah—right!”
She scrambled out of bed, pushing the strange dream to the back of her mind as she grabbed her jacket.
There were more important things to focus on right now.