Chapter XV – Proof of Valor
There was no need to rush since Naoko had arrived almost ten minutes earlier than expected, so she took her time to climb the stairs and avoiding shaking the building with her steps. As she reached the final floor and walked to the office, she heard Aratani’s voice on the inside, apparently talking in an informal way she wasn’t used to hear coming from him:
“Course it’s for you, dumbass. Why’d I give something to you if it wasn’t meant for you? Do you think I’m stupid?”
The way he talked had no angriness, thought it prevented Naoko from walking in. The girl halted, holding the doorknob without really intending to open it. Another man’s voice, probably around the same age as Aratani, sounded on the inside, though it was a little more high-pitched and hoarse, not to mention he seemed tired. It also spoke informally, though with some strange mannerisms that made that person sound like he was used to communicating informally all the time, unlike Aratani:
“Man, why that? You know you don’t need to gimme that, man.”
Aratani immediately replied:
“Uh… in case you didn’t notice, I’m renting your two rooms. So I’m pretty sure I actually need to give you that.”
The man Naoko didn’t know sounded more like a punk than a landlord, really. At first the girl didn’t understand the part about the two rooms, though there was another door on that corridor, in front of the bathrooms, that was always closed. It intrigued her, though the conversation took precedence. The landlord sounded shocked. After a moment of silence, he protested once again:
“Man… No, man, that’s… That’s way more than this place’s worth. Especially with all this trash around, man. I’m… I-I can’t, man. I-I know what y’trying to do and I appreciate it, man. I truly do! But you’re my bro! I can’t take that much from you! You may need it! Do you really expect me to take it?”
“No, man,” Aratani retorted, coolly, “I expect you to go fuck yourself and stop being a pussy, and then take it. ‘Cause… you see, I’m not retarded like you, man. I know how to operate businesses and I know how much I need to keep going and expanding. You, on the other hand, clearly don’t, so shut the fuck up and take it before I shove it up your ass like you deserve.”
Backtracking, Naoko sat down on the nearest couch and concentrated on hearing that conversation. They talked like friends. Close friends. So close they could badmouth each other as if it was a common thing. The unknown man, sighing, sounded extremely grateful:
“I… don’t know what to say, man. Thanks. Really, thanks a lot.” His voice started to tremble, “I don’t deserve it, man. I’ll… pay you somehow, I swear, man. Somehow I will. I… I know I… You’re always the one doing things for me, man. Not fair, man. Not fair. I…”
“Yeah, right. Don’t fret over it,” Aratani’s voice was as tranquil as ever, “Just keep your word, man. If you just stop fucking things up eventually you’ll be okay.”
Despite his cool attitude he seemed serious on that one. Asking herself what her producer meant by that, Naoko held her breath instinctively, expecting to hear some sort of explanation. It was too much to ask, though, since the two men obviously knew what they were talking about and left it unspoken. Instead, the man Naoko didn’t know, the strange landlord, promised:
“Oh, I will, man! I swear. I’m already doing it. Doing fine. I’ll pay the interest up with the money and chip the big chunk, man. I stopped wasting it. And wasting my life. Don’t worry, man. I’m okay now.”
After a long silence, Aratani answered:
“Good to hear that. But if you’re not fucked up anymore, why’re you looking like shit?”
It was so unreal to hear her producer talking that way that Naoko almost couldn’t believe it was the same man she knew. Then again, despite the way he talked he still sounded genuinely concerned about another person, which seemed something he’d do.
“I’m still having some problems to sleep, okay?” the unknown man replied, “But it’s getting better. A month ago I couldn’t even keep still. But now look at that, man! Still as fuck. Before my hands shook like hell, like this, but now? Now I can even masturbate without risking to break little Shoichi here! That’s an improvement, you can’t deny, man.”
Naoko regretted eavesdropping that conversation, though that man also sounded a little funny. Aratani, however, was funnier in his acid reply:
“You’ve the guts to call that an improvement. That’s the least anyone would expect, man! Shut up and go find a job, you lazy bum. Now that’ll be an improvement.”
“I’m looking for work, man!” the guest replied, “It’s not easy to find, but I’m on it. Of course, I’m not going to find anything as fancy as you, producer-San!” Changing subjects, the unemployed landlord asked with a drained voice but an excited tone, “So, how’s business, man? Doing well, it appears!”
Naoko leaned closer to the door, her curiosity piqued. Aratani replied:
“Yeah, going smoothly. Better than I expected for a first month, really. Though not thanks to you, man. Did you already find a place to throw all your trash in or do you really expect me to pay to storage your stuff? Dude, I’m telling you: I’m going to pay to storage it for one month, if you don’t find a job and rent a place where you can put this trash by then I’m throwing it out.”
“I told you, man! Burn it all up!” the unattached guest said, though Aratani protested, “What’s your problem, man? These are all important stuff! Someday it will be worth a fortune and save your sorry ass to keep these things. Stop being lazy and find a way to store it up yourself.”
It never occurred to the girl what could be inside all those boxes, though the moment Aratani said it could be worth a fortune Naoko had to practice her self-control not to break the door open and inspect the contents immediately. Praying for a clearer statement didn’t helped either, since the landlord, with his usually informal way, already knew the context and instead inquired:
“Why the fuck did you bring up this subject just now, man? What does it have to do with how your business is going?”
“Man, are you stupid or what?” Aratani retorted, “That’s an idol agency, not a dumping ground! Do you think any woman would like to come to a place like this? Unlike you, they have standards, man. Especially the kind who can become an idol.”
The unknown person sounded teasing:
“He-he, but they can’t resist Kouta’s smooth talk, eh? How’s the girl?”
Naoko’s heart skipped a beat. Getting concerned, she glued her ear to the door to hear Aratani’s negative reply:
“She’s my idol, not my girlfriend, dumbass. And she’s sixteen. Got to have some respect, man. I know you’ve no idea what this word mean, but trust me, respect is important. Heck, she’s the one who have respect here! She’s far too forgiving. If I was a talented, cheerful bombshell you know what I’d say to a producer with a messy office like this? “Fuck you, I’m out of here.” Something like this. In fact, that was almost what happened the first time we met. I still feel sorry for her every time she has to come to a disordered room like this. Thankfully, like I said, she’s a talented bombshell. The girl is amazing. Crazy as fuck, but that’s part of her show too. ‘Cause of it, business was so good for a first month that I can even afford to dispatch your shit to a limbo somewhere by next week and make this place look nice for once.”
Blushing, Naoko looked down to her body for a little while and, grateful for the words, smiled faintly even though she tried not to. The unknown man, stopping with the teasing and sounding honest once again, said:
“I’m happy for you, man. You’ve a heart of gold, bro. If anyone deserves to be successful, it is you, man. Hope things go well for your agency, man. I’ll try to set things straight on my end too so you don’t need to pick up my slack ever again, man. I’ll find a place. I’m sorry for the trouble, dude. I won’t worry you anymore, man. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me, okay? Also, mark my words: I’ll pay this tab off someda
y if I can!”
After a small pause, Aratani sounded again, chill as always:
“Cool, man, you do that. Now get out of here. My idol is arriving at any minute now.”
“Ouch, man!” the unknown person jested, “What, is Kouta ashamed of old pal Shoichi?”
Like Naoko imagined, the two knew each other well like old friends. Because of it Aratani instantly replied, half-joking:
“Hell yeah. Man, you smell like shit, look like shit and seem tired as fuck. I can’t even say how many days you don’t take a bath, man. You’re that bad. She’ll think I’m inviting beggars to the office. She has another crazy friend who’d probably like it, but my idol’s not one for homeless guys, thankfully. Get lost, man. Come back next month for the rent and until then keep off my lawn.”
Laughs could be heard on the inside. Naoko, feeling anxious, sat straight and tried to look as if she hadn’t overheard any conversation. Still, the instant the door opened she couldn’t help but take an overly curious peek at the person accompanying Aratani. The unemployed landlord seemed more like an unemployed man than a landlord, really. His hair, albeit short, was not so short that could be kept untidy like it was without anyone noticing. It was of a light brown color, like his goatee. He wore a small pair of glasses, though since the circular lenses were tinted in a slightly reddish caramel tone, it was probably more for style and sunlight protection than anything else. Indoors the man even looked from over the lenses sometimes. He was around the same height as Naoko when the girl was wearing her platform boots, around one meter and seventy five or six centimeters tall. He was above average, though still lower than Aratani, but maybe because of his shorter stature he also appeared a little beefier. Not that it meant much, because Aratani was well-fit but somewhat slender, but still. Around his tired brown eyes, dark circles were clearly seen. Naoko`s hypersensitive nose could smell tobacco and sake all over his old looking gray suit coat, haphazardly put together with a black shirt, blue pants and brown shoes. His lips were cracked and his skin was badly kept, making him look older than he probably was. Naoko imagined he’d be around Aratani’s age if it wasn’t for those things. He walked in large strides and flailed his arms widely in a way that made he seem a bit arrogant, though it was probably unintended because his face didn’t seem conceited. Also, he didn’t look a beggar like her producer jested him to be, though he did appear a bit happy-go-lucky. Maybe that’s why he also looked somewhat funny.
He smiled with one side of the mouth in a similar fashion as Aratani sometimes did. It turned into a surprised face, however, when he laid his eyes on the girl waiting in the corridor.
“Wow. Hum… hello,” the man, after recovering from the unexpected presence, greeted her with a hoarse voice and a small bow. Naoko, probably looking a bit scared of the two noticing she had overheard the conversation, smiled back and nodded somewhat edgily. Aratani’s eyes, finding the girl sitting close to the door and looking slightly tense, sparkled with some sort of comprehension, though the man opted to ask:
“Ah, Naoko-Chan? Already here?”
“Uh… yes, I… arrived a bit earlier,” she replied, “I was going in but I noticed you’re talking and… hum…”
Unfazed, her producer turned to his old friend and, in a cool but not overly informal way anymore, introduced the two:
“She’s Yano Naoko, the idol I produce. Naoko-Chan, this is Mitsui Shoichi. He’s… the proprietor of this floor and rents it for the agency.”
Their conversation showed the two were not merely business partners and it seemed a bit fishy for Aratani to not mention the rest. It made Naoko uneasy, though the girl played along and politely greeted that Mitsui Shoichi fellow. He, also respectfully, replied, though he sounded like a person who wasn’t used to talk politely and spoke as if he felt it was odd to say such things:
“Ah. It’s… a pleasure to meet you… Yano-San. I hope you and… Aratani-San… get along well.” In a more frank way, he leaned a little closer and secretly remarked somewhat wittily with a half-smile, “He’s a great man. Stubborn like an untrained mule, but great. Just give him a little whack if he starts to get too headstrong, sometimes he needs it.”
When Mitsui wasn’t being odd in his polite demeanor he actually seemed like a funny guy. His unexpected advice made Naoko smile honestly. Aratani, turning a sour face to the landowner, drolly retorted:
“Thanks for your useless counsel, but she already does that.”
Mitsui turned his attention to the girl, and for a moment Naoko lost her smile, fearing Aratani’s humorous reply could trigger some sort of unwanted reprimand from his old friend, but the landlord instead joked:
“Good girl! Keep that up.” Mitsui turned to Aratani, “You found a girl in her right mind! I’m sure you deserve every smack she gives you.”
“I only deserve half of them, now get lost before you compromise me even more,” Aratani retorted amusingly. Naoko was too surprised to laugh, but the friendly bickers of the two were entertaining. At first Naoko was concerned Mitsui would seem like bad news, but beyond his arguably badly-kept exterior he seemed a humorous and cool man. Once he was gone Aratani invited her inside the office, and this time the girl couldn’t help but notice all those cardboard boxes that, along with a sofa, a few shelves and other unused furniture, cramped the space.
“How long was Naoko-Chan waiting?” Aratani asked while closing the door. Seeing the girl looked a bit surprised and deviated her eyes from the boxes, thinking about an answer before saying she had been there for about five minutes, the man became suspicious. He inquired, “Naoko-Chan, please tell me the truth: did you overheard something?”
The girl stared at her producer for a while, trying to evaluate if he would get angry. In doing so, however, the man got the answer he was asking for. A little troubled, he sighed while thinking back on what they have talked about.
“I’m sorry, Produ-San,” Naoko apologized, getting concerned. “I didn’t want to, but I just stumbled upon you two talking and I thought it’d be rude to come in… but I… got a little curious too. And… you two speak so loud that… even from the corridor I… Well, I think it was rude all the same… I’m sorry!”
The man, looking to the ceiling and scratching his neck during a moment of silence, said:
“It’s okay. I’m the one who should apologize, I think.”
Confused and worried, the girl inquired why, to what her producer told:
“Well… I don’t know how much you heard of the conversation, but… me and Mitsui usually use some… ah… improper language, I think. I… didn’t want Naoko-Chan to hear me talking that way.”
Relieved, Naoko dismissed it with a smile:
“Ah, that? Don’t worry, Produ-San! I told you I had many male friends. I’m used to how boys… err… and some young men talk to each other when they are close friends.” Taking the opportunity, she questioned, “You two know each other for a long time, right?”
Lost in thoughts for a few seconds, Aratani at last confirmed in a less than enthusiastic way:
“Yes. For about twenty years now. I met him when I was six, I think.”
“Twenty years?!” Naoko inquired, surprised, “No wonder Produ-San talks so freely with Mitsui-San and vice-versa! So he’s not just a landlord, right?”
Nodding, the man quickly changed subjects:
“I asked him to come over an hour ago, but that blasted Shoichi… Well, whatever. What did Naoko-Chan overhear of that conversation, anyway?”
The girl lost her upbeat face. In a slightly worried tone, she reluctantly asked:
“About… since when you paid him the rent and… he said it was… too much… and that this place wasn’t worth so much… I-Is Produ-San angry with me?”
Sighing, the man retorted:
“No. “Produ-San” is angry with himself. Naoko-Chan is not at fault here.” Looking to his feet, the man thought for quite a while about the conversation, “I think I owe Naoko-Chan an explanation about a few things, rig
ht?”
Though Naoko replied negatively, the man noticed just how curious she was. Appearing tired in advance of everything he would have to explain, he decided to preemptively do so in the most succinct way he could:
“See, Naoko-Chan, I’ll briefly summarize things for you: Mitsui is an old acquaintance of mine. He’s… having some problems in recent times, so I’m helping him.”
“The thing about him being unemployed and you renting his rooms for more than what they are worth?” Naoko inquired, and Aratani, looking uncomfortable, hesitantly replied, in an honestly concerned way “Well, that’s… most of it, anyway. What I want you to know is that, despite really paying more than what this place is worth, it’s a temporary matter I hope to solve soon. Also, it’s not so much that’d put in danger the finances of the company. I’d never spend more than I can afford, and I have carefully put aside your payment and some money for improving the agency and investing in you. It’s a self-sacrifice for a friend after all, Naoko-Chan doesn’t need to pay for my choices too. Naoko-Chan surely deserves more than what I have been able to offer until now, but…”
That was the first time the man talked about her payment, filling the girl with a warm sensation. Even that lost its impact, though, compared to how strangely Aratani acted. The man looked visibly irritated with himself for the first time Naoko could remember. Turning to a cardboard box nearby so he didn’t have to face the girl, the vexed producer assured:
“I… I’m trying. I will improve this agency and your standing. Slowly but surely. I… only wish I could do it quicker.” Lightly kicking a box, the upset man swore, “The Golden Week will go on until Tuesday and will occupy most of my time, but the first thing I’ll do Wednesday will be to send all this trash away and tidy up this place. From there I’ll invest in promoting Naoko-Chan the way a girl who scores in her first month half of the amount of show points required for advancing to the next class deserves. I… am sorry for unjustly not having done so already.”
Mitsui, who knew Aratani for two decades according to the producer, had mentioned more than once the tall man had a heart of gold, and despite Naoko having already seen glimpses of it, it was the first time she could remember seeing him caring so much and appearing so distressed for a supposedly unjust act of his own. Not to mention a minute before he’d said to Mitsui, “If I was a talented, cheerful bombshell you know what I’d say to a producer with a messy office like this? “Fuck you, I’m out of here” Something like this.” Naoko could see that said a lot about her producer and how well he regarded her. He seemed sour and worried. His pensive eyes rested distantly on the box he’d kicked.
Both of Naoko’s white gloves held one of the man’s hands, making Aratani suddenly snap out of his thoughts. He found the girl smiling warmly to him. Trying to find a good position among so many boxes and furniture, Naoko set his mind at rest:
“It’s okay. Really. I can see Produ-San is doing his best! That’s all I need.” Letting her curiosity guide her, she added, “Though it’ll do you no good to kick something that can be worth a fortune, now, will it?” Her eyes gleamed, “Is it, like… something illegal? I won’t tell anyone! I swear!”
For a moment her producer seemed surprised. Winding out, the man grinned, teasing her:
“So Naoko-Chan heard it too, huh? Nah, it’s no problem. You’d be so disappointed to know what I’m kicking you’d probably do it too. Too bad you don’t know.”
Since it sounded like nothing important, the curious girl had no qualms to wittily insist:
“Your talented, cheerful bombshell of an idol demands to know what it is!”
In disbelief, Aratani looked a little embarrassed. Vexed, he crossed his arms and joked:
“I hate you, girl.”
Smiling triumphantly, Naoko replied:
“Also, talented and cheerful bombshell demands you to compliment her again so she can record it on her smartphone and use it as her ringtone!”
Not expecting that retribution, he laughed out whole-heartedly, saying:
“Touché. I guess we’re even now.” Teasingly, he talked to himself, “Let me see, should I show to the talented, cheerful bombshell with a Pandora complex the contents of the boxes or not? Hum… Maybe not…”
With a cute and gracious smile, Naoko slowly and menacingly raised a flaming fist, helping her producer quickly make up his mind. The man walked back to his desk and grabbed his car key. Using it as a knife, he cut the silver duct tape that held one box shut. Throwing the key back on his desk, he opened it, and Naoko immediately leaned in curiously.
From inside the box Aratani took of one unframed canvas and then another. Below the two there were more, all piled up. Each presented a partially abstract image. One appeared to be of a cottage by the sea. Dusk, dark-red skies contrasted with the navy-blue ocean and the black soil. The other appeared to be a daytime painting, though gray clouds covered an equally gray city. The buildings seemed to curve over the street as teeth. Red vines, flowers and lush trees invaded the seemingly abandoned city as if an “unnatural nature”, as the name of the painting on its back suggested, reclaimed the territory. The canvas that was on top of the pile in the box presented a black background over which thin white lines depicted a pacific seaside village. On the horizon, though, crimson clouds and a hurricane neighbored, as if approaching.
Those pictures seemed either gloomy or foreboding, and sported the same signing. With the exception of the devastated city reclaimed by nature, the other two had a peaceful atmosphere that, nevertheless, felt ominous as if that calmness merely preceded a storm. The brush strokes on the two dark images were convoluted and short, while on the gray one they looked long and somewhat melancholic. The images were somewhat abstract, but not entirely. It’s more of a trait from the skies and the background than from the main objects of each scene, with the chaotic brush strokes making the images look blurred. Naoko knew nothing about paintings, but she liked those. They were disturbing in a sense, but also reminded her of a few apocalyptic worlds in video games and other media, which was a perk to Naoko. Aratani didn’t look so impressed, though, observing the canvases with reminiscent eyes.
“Are these the things Produ-San said someday would be worth a fortune? Paintings?” Naoko inquired, not disappointed but seeming a little unimpressed once she found out what it was. Her producer, taking his time to observe the paintings without appearing to appreciate it too much, agreed slowly, “Yes. Almost every box is full of those. The works of a madman.”
He returned the canvases to the box and turned to face Naoko, who was a little frightened.
“A madman?” she asked, “W-who painted it? Don’t tell me… It was Mitsui-San!” Seeing Aratani nod, the girl looked even more disturbed, “Is Mitsui-San… a crazy person?”
Her producer dismissed his own words with a forced but entertaining half-smile.
“Only a little more than me, I suppose. Though art is a thing created by disturbed minds. Any kind will do, as long as it’s not a commercial thing, like those formulaic action and romance Western movies, for example. I mean, look at these paintings. It’s not something a sane mind would enjoy, though I suspect that’s the reason collectors of art likes those things.”
Calmer, Naoko could go back to enjoy it and commented
“Don’t scare me like that, Produ-San! For a moment I thought Mitsui-San was an insane psycho or something! Also, just so you know I kind of liked those paintings!”
Aratani, smiling sarcastically, reaffirmed:
“Like I said, not something a sane mind would enjoy. Coming from a girl who likes virtual drugs such as video games, my point remains unchallenged.”
Forgetting to praise Mitsui’s skills and ask about how he learned to paint like that, Aratani practically forced her to hit him. The man, after protecting himself from the onslaught of slaps, finally found time to return to his chair, saying while massaging his arm:
“I never thought about it before, but now I kind of get why the use of t
he “bombshell” word. Because messing around with you carelessly hurts a lot. You madwoman.”
Having fun until the last sentence, Naoko abruptly raised an arm, but her producer quickly changed subjects:
“Okay, okay, let’s talk about something else, shall we?” The man appeared to suddenly remember something serious. He turned to his computer and printed a few pages of what looked like a contract, but instead of handing it to the girl, he stored it on his suitcase, hence making Naoko looked puzzled.
“Sorry, Naoko-Chan, but that’s not for you this time. This is Megumi-San’s subscription documents.” Looking at his wristwatch, he added while opening a shelf behind his desk and taking something from there which he promptly pocketed, “Speaking of Megumi-San, we better get going, else we’re going to lose her audition. Which is a shame, because I still need to tell you about the two “Hidden Categories”, as they call it. Well, I’ll do it some other time since it can take a while. For now just do your best and keep up the good work as always, alright?”
They met her on the lobby close to the reception desk manned by that gibberish-speaking secretary that everyone, with the exception of Naoko, appeared to understand perfectly. Megumi sat on a luxurious white couch near a row of huge windows when Naoko and her producer arrived, and despite looking tense, she at least didn’t seem frightened. She carried a handbag with her costume and a makeup kit, among other things, and opened a grateful smile as she saw the two coming.
“Megumi-San!” Naoko cheerfully greeted her, “Sorry for the tardiness!”
“What tardiness?” Megumi replied, standing up and looking at her cellphone for a second, “You’re a few minutes early. I’m the one who arrived a bit too early. I was… a little impatient.”
The girl’s anxiety seemed to have reduced a little by their arrival, though she still looked nervous. Trying not to demonstrate her worries about Megumi acting less serenely than she’d like to see her, Naoko briskly asked:
“So, how are you holding up? About the conversation last night, how was it? Did Rin-Chan manage to help Megumi-San even if just a bit?”
Megumi vigorously nodded, and with a bow the girl humbly thanked her:
“It helped a lot! Thanks to Rin-Chan I had a great night of sleep and I think I’m finally ready to do an audition! I can’t thank Naoko-Chan enough for getting me in contact with her friend, her nightmare interpretation was astounding!” Megumi blushed, “I was a little skeptical at first, but I was stunned! It was even a bit scary to hear her say all those things about me that made total sense, but even I didn’t know about! I discovered a lot about myself”
“What kinds of things?” Naoko curiously asked, “ I’m sorry for having left in the middle of the interpretation. I… had a few things to do, but I’m curious as to what you discovered!”
Megumi looked a bit embarrassed, especially because there was a line of girls and producers not far from there. To further add to her difficulty to talk about her discoveries, Naoko received a message from Ayumi asking for forgiveness but stating she was in an audition that was going to finish a few minutes later than expected. And as Naoko turned back to Megumi, two identical girls approached. If not for their hairstyle and because one seemed more outgoing and energetic while the other appeared exhausted, Megumi wouldn’t be able to differentiate the two. Naoko, smiling, greeted the two happily and introduced Sakura and Harumi to Megumi and vice-versa. The more outspoken of the twins, Sakura, immediately announced:
“Sorry we were almost late, but I heard if we tossed a coin on each of the four ponds around the headquarters and a fifth on the final pond by the entrance it gives good luck, so me and Harumi ran around flinging coins! I hope it helps Megumi-San!”
Harumi, looking exhausted, said:
“I still think the tradition goes that only the person who tosses the coins receive the good luck benefits, and I’m pretty sure splitting up to cover two ponds each doesn’t equate to a full run according to the ritual. But trying to talk sense into Sakura’s head is harder than to just play along and run around attracting unwanted attention. I just hope it helps Megumi-San too.”
“You two shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble just for me! Thanks for your support, Sakura-San and Harumi-San!” Megumi gladly thanked the two. The modest girl had barely enough time to appreciate the twins` efforts before Sakura commented:
“Naoko-Chan told us about Megumi-San! That she helps people and needs to perform well today to keep her dreams afloat! Since our producer was sleeping in the office like always we came to root for you on your last chance!”
Harumi gave her sister a cold stare. Sakura, noticing she’d done something wrong, asked “What? What did I do?!”, to what Harumi, sighing, replied in a vexed and caustic way:
“Sakura, remember what I told you about not pressuring Megumi-San? Turns out you’re doing it wrong.”
The tall idol laughed. Shaking her head, she eased their minds:
“Thank you for your concern, but don’t worry Harumi-San. It’s okay, Sakura-San is right. And I’m ready for it. As ready as I could get in a week, at least.”
Sakura, pestering her sister, showed her tongue to Harumi and proceeded to say:
“When Naoko-Chan told us about Megumi-San and her fear of stages, I created a picture of you in my head. But I never imagined Megumi-San would look so beautiful! Megumi-San is tall and gorgeous! I’d fear nothing on a stage if I was as stunning as Megumi-San!”
“Oh, that’s uncalled for! Thank you for your generous words, but I’m not so pretty!” Megumi humbly replied, “And Sakura-San and Harumi-San are outstandingly beautiful!”
Though the twins seemed thankful, something bugged Sakura, who eagerly stated:
“I don’t know about Harumi, but I’m sure she agrees with me that Megumi-San doesn’t need to use honorifics with us! I hope we can be friends!”
“Oh… Well, in this case… hum… thanks, Sakura-Chan… and Harumi-Chan!” Megumi embarrassedly corrected herself, seeing Harumi nodding in acceptance, and humbly returned the kindness, “I hope we can be friends too! If that’s the case, there’s no need to use honorifics for me too. It goes for you too, Naoko-Chan! Sorry for not telling you this sooner, I intended to say that to you yesterday but I was so concentrated on my nightmare that it slipped my mind. Sorry.”
“No problem! Can I call you Megumi-Chan then?! Yay!” Naoko commemorated briefly before excitedly returning to the first subject, “Megumi-Chan was talking about your nightmare and the things you discovered through the dream interpretation process! Though I can understand if Megumi-Chan doesn’t want to talk about it! Rin-Chan already did it to me once, and I know it’s probably very personal and some things are hard to say! Don’t feel pressured to do it!”
“What nightmare?! What about that dream interpreting thing?!” Sakura enthusiastically inquired, “Now I’m curious! Tell me! Tell me!”
While Sakura looked as excited as Naoko, Harumi and Aratani exchanged cool looks, as if they maturely could relate to each other’s situation. The collected girl acidly remarked:
“Sakura, remember what I told you about not pressuring Megumi-San? Turns out you’re still doing it wrong.”
Harumi’s stark contrast to her sister and the bickering between the two made Megumi laugh. Aratani invited her to the line in order to get her confirmation for the oncoming audition, though, so she had to postpone the explanation until after that. Megumi produced from her handbag a contract of her own and presented it to the gibberish-speaking secretary. As she was heading to the photography and dressing room a hurried girl wearing electric-blue contact lenses approached from the corridor that led to the many auditoriums. Ayumi was already wearing a black and blue tiara and frilled dress that vaguely resembled the shape of a maid costume, with over the knee white stockings that hid her few bruises, gloves and shining shoes. Behind her, coming at a slower pace, her producer, Mr. Onda, carried a bag and a case of some sort of musical instrument in the shape of an electric guitar. r />
“Naoko-Chan!” Ayumi called, puffing, “I’m glad I found you all!” Turning to everyone, the girl blushed. Ashamed, she bowed and said in a whispering voice, “I’m sorry… I’m very late. The audition I applied to had two last minute contestants… and I… had to wait for the results! I want to root for Megumi-San too, but I almost didn’t find you all! I’m very sorry!”
With the exception of Aratani and Naoko, the others were surprised by the unexpected approach. Since Megumi had to go change and take a photo for the credited intro in case she ranked among the top five, introductions from Naoko were quick:
“Megumi-Chan, before you go get ready, I want you to meet Yukimura Ayumi. I think we all briefly talked together on the phone back on the show last night. She’s a Wood-class idol I met yesterday, and she wanted to know everyone and join the group! Ayumi-Chan, this is Kobayashi Megumi-Chan! And they’re Harumi-Chan and Sakura-Chan! Oh, and that man who’s coming with an electric guitar case is Ayumi-Chan’s producer, Onda Hisoka-San!”
“It’s actually a bass,” Ayumi commented, and bowed to everyone, saying, “I won’t take any more time from you, Kobayashi-San. We can talk later at the auditorium, but for now it’s a pleasure to meet you!”
Looking surprised, Megumi bowed back, humbly replying:
“The pleasure is all mine, Yukimura-San!”
“Please, call me Ayumi!” the introverted girl with the mesmerizing blue contact lenses asked with a low but friendly voice, to what Megumi seemed as glad as she was uncomfortable, modestly replying, “Oh, my! I hardly think it’s appropriate for someone like me to call a Wood-class idol this way! It’s an honor, A… A… Ayumi-San!”
Perceiving the twins also looked impressed, Ayumi shook her head.
“I just reached the Intermediate League recently, until last month I was still a Minor League idol. To be quite frank, I still think myself as one. Maybe it’s wishful thinking…”
“Why?!” Sakura promptly inquired before anyone even had time to react, and Ayumi said in an even lower, secretively voice that, though childish in tone, seemed rather mature, “Well… Naoko-Chan can attest to what I say, but… in the Minor League idols are usually averse to each other, though they generally act through cold stares and icy acts. In the Intermediate League idols are much more… openly ruthless. They bad-mouth and mistreat each other. I’m… not a big fan of it.” Looking at Naoko, she commented, “It… happened again on the audition. Another unfriendly reaction from a girl just because I had a few problems unplugging my bass from the speakers and took a few seconds longer than usual. It’s… not nice…”
The girl looked sad for a second and the mood of the group turned blue.
“Shucks,” Sakura mumbled, “And I thought it’d be nice to get class promotions…”
Looking around to the slightly downcast faces – with the exception of Harumi, who merely kept the serious countenance she was more often than not seen expressing –, Naoko quickly cut the bad atmosphere with an upbeat smile and reassured everyone:
“Hey, that’s exactly why we need to be together! As a group we can cheer each other up and keep things nice even when there are negative people around! That’s why Ayumi-Chan wanted to know Megumi-Chan, Harumi-Chan and Sakura-Chan in the first place!” Lighting smiles around, Naoko stated, “Megumi-Chan, you’ll be late if you don’t hurry! We’ll meet you in the auditorium and we’ll talk more there!”
Thanking Ayumi, Naoko and everyone, the girl left on a rush. With the joyous mood restored, Sakura promptly enthused about Ayumi’s bass, asking her if she used it onstage, and the idol nodded, saying:
“An instrument adds a whole new level of complexity to any performance. It generally hurts your Dancing score, but can increase your Singing and Devotion ones by a large margin too, provided you know what you’re doing! And it adds many bonuses. It’s not uncommon to see Intermediate League idols playing instruments, especially when they didn’t want or can’t resort to dancing. Also there are special events that require it. Thankfully Onda-San got me on classes of an instrument of my choice from the very beginning! I can’t stress enough how much it can pay off in the long run, I’d probably not have qualified on this audition I just did if it wasn’t for me playing one of the two songs using an instrument. On auditions involving two or more songs where they use only the best scores of all performances, to play an instrument on one shows judges you know what you’re doing. Not to mention it can help if you girls want to get in a band! I strongly recommend that everyone learn to play an instrument. With the exception of… drums and big things that restrict movement too much, or flutes and instruments that don’t let you sing while playing, anything goes. Though I think there are even special rules for making drums, flutes and the like all viable options during special events despite the impossibility to dance or sing while playing those, so any will do, I think.”
Even Aratani took note of it and started a conversation with Onda about the subject while Naoko, Harumi and Sakura talked about what instruments each one would like to know how to play. Naoko and Sakura were captivated by electric guitars, while Harumi preferred less eye-catchy objects, though she had no idea what she’d like to play if she could. In fact, even drums, which were big, would be fine since she wouldn’t have to dance and could hide behind something. They walked to the entrance of the assorted auditorium while inconclusively naming instruments to see if any sounded as cool as a bass or an electric guitar.
The talk continued after a brief pause once Megumi arrived. Wearing her lilac sailor suit with white ankle booties and a sky-blue long wig, the tall lady looked even more mesmerizing than usual. Every idol Naoko had seen so far looked at least very beautiful, and yet Megumi’s appearance could put four out of every five girls on that room to shame. Though beauty was subjective, Naoko herself wasn’t used to being surpassed in terms of prettiness, and still her friend was a good match for her. She could imagine opinions would be divided if people had to choose who, among the two, was the prettiest. Still, unlike Naoko, Megumi acted a bit awkward, blushing and walking embarrassedly even though she was probably used to wearing that outfit. She was just too humble for her own good.
Naoko decided to make another round of presentations once everyone was rounded together at the back of the auditorium, to put everyone on par with everything, like Megumi’s charity acts, Ayumi’s uncanny dancing abilities and the twins perseverance in face of the hardships created by their clueless, old producer. While Aratani and Onda discussed in hushes whatever it was, the girls whispered about instruments, hobbies, how it was to be in the Intermediate League or to help homeless people and so on. Since every idol and her producer in the room sat in pairs separated from one another, the seven people group at the back of the auditorium caused some curiosity. Not to mention it was probably a little intimidating for some of the other contestants to see so many possible competitors being friendly and getting together nicely like that. As if they were part of an alliance or a band.
While they waited for Megumi’s turn Naoko talked about how Aratani always calmed her down before auditions and, mentioning their talks, made even the girls who already knew it laugh. They decided to support each other by attending to one another’s auditions whenever possible doing similar things. It was unfortunate that they couldn’t currently do the same for Ayumi, since as the girl explained, once Dark idols were promoted to the Sea class they received a medal-like necklace. It was shaped like the I.S.S.G.’s logo, the five-pronged yellow star with a tail-like shape of overlapped, progressively smaller planets. The necklace had seven indentations on its outline. Every time they progressed to a new class they were awarded a small, star-shaped crystal that had to be attached to the corresponding slot. Each class awarded a crystal of a different color. The name of the idol was engraved on the back of the medal, along with her blood type, date of birth and slots for the dates the person was admitted on the I.S.S.G and when she retired.
While Dark-class idols had no such pendant, showing i
t was a requirement for any accompanying idol to get into an audition she wasn’t going to participate. Only idols belonging to equal or higher Leagues of the ones being auditioned could get into a test, so no one could attend to an audition of Ayumi until they got promoted to the Intermediate League. It wasn’t nice because Ayumi seemed to need the company badly, but at least they could still exchange text messages and help her in other ways.
It only occurred to Naoko that Megumi hadn’t explained what she discovered with Rin’s dream interpretation when one of the three judges called, “Next contestant, Kobayashi Megumi”. The group silenced all whisperings and turned their eyes to the girl with the sparkling blue wig. Megumi stood up, breathing deeply.
Whatever could be stirring on Megumi’s mind was unfathomable. The girl looked nervous, though not nearly as much as she seemed the first time Naoko saw her. Still, despite all the camaraderie, she knew very well it was her last chance to prove herself as an idol. Many people came together to support her on that final attempt, so it was to be expected she felt the pressure despite all the fun and relaxation she had before the audition.
So far Naoko had been the one performing, so she had no idea how it was to wait and watch someone else. In her mind it should be easier to just see others perform than to actually feel the pressure of having to sing and dance. But as she saw Megumi walking away Naoko felt a horrible sensation, worse than when she had to do it herself. She, along with the other girls, smiled and bid her good luck, saying Megumi should perform for their friends on the back instead of the judges. Aratani, though, reminded her she had to look and pose to them if she wanted a good Devotion score, and Ayumi hinted she should act out of her heart rather than worry what the judges were thinking. Everyone wanted to give last minute tips, though there was no time left.
Naoko hoped her face appeared encouraging, because deep inside she had terrible emotions. Her entire body started to itch and nerve-wrecking anxiety she didn’t feel even on her own auditions consumed her. To Naoko’s shock, she noticed how much she preferred to perform than to watch. Surprisingly, it made her less anxious. Maybe because if she was the one on the stage, she was in control of the situation. She was the one singing and dancing, and she knew herself. She trusted herself. Rooting for others was insidiously enervating and disturbing for her, despite wanting to believe in her friend’s skills.
Taking the microphone, Megumi treaded slowly to the center of the stage and stood with her eyes closed for a minute. It was a relaxing technique, not different in appearance from a prayer – in fact, Naoko didn’t even know if Megumi wasn’t praying – but it made her look nervous. Thankfully her song wasn’t a happy one, so she didn’t suddenly shine a forced smile to the judges out of the blue. Instead, her countenance became resolute and she firmly nodded to the sound operator. A somewhat melancholic blues song, with a firm beat and long notes that was accompanied by a dry but emotional lyric started. It was one of the songs Naoko’s dancing instructor, Sato-Sensei, had suggested. She had also warned about that in spite of being light on choreographic movements, it required precise and heartfelt execution to be believable. If it was properly performed it should be impressive and the lack of a complex choreography was possibly favored by Megumi due to the little amount of time she had to practice, but it was a two-edged sword at the same time. Her score relied on a good, emotional performance. There wasn’t much else Megumi could do in the allotted time she had and the lyric was probably rich enough to make the girl feel comfortable to sing it, in a sense speaking about the hardships homeless people endured and their struggles to keep their hopes. But just as much as the diehard character in the lyric, by choosing that song to perform on her final chance Megumi was also living on a prayer.
Aratani discreetly started filming with his cellphone. Onda casually whispered:
“Aratani-San, I know you’re probably aware of it, but it’s prohibited to film auditions. I won’t act against you on this, I just want to let you know.”
With a cool countenance, Naoko’s producer replied:
“Thanks, Onda-San. Yes, I know it’s prohibited. But this rule was made so that what’s essentially an evaluated rehearsal don’t be seen by the general public in order to protect the idols’ images. I’m not going to publicize it, though. I just need to show Megumi-San how much she improved and have some proof to show her producer if she succeeds. Megumi-San urgently needs some self-confidence after such a losing streak and for the same reason her producer will probably need confidence in her idol too.”
“Ah,” Onda nodded, “I understand. Well thought.”
The melody unfolded for some time before a split second of silence that cued the beginning of the vocal performance. With long eyes as if to the horizon Megumi started singing. Her voice was steady, and it became clear by the way she sang with a heavy heart that at least some of the tension she appeared to feel was in fact an emotional component of the music rather than personal anxiety. Her voice started a bit low, though, but it was very melodic. Choreography aside, her movements were a bit shy and some felt mechanical, not a good thing for such a song, but the girl at least sang like she cared for more than just sounding good.
Truth be told, her attire was pink and white while her song was dramatic, even a bit sad. Aratani commented it with Naoko in whispers, and only then the girl could notice it.
“It completely slipped my mind that she only had her previous, cheerful outfit,” Aratani commented, not really concerned but not joking either. Naoko got something else to worry about after perceiving it, and since Sakura whispered to her wanting to know what appeared to disquiet her, the girl spread to her friends what Aratani had said. Ayumi, pondering while analyzing the girl dancing with blue eyes, whispered:
“That’s right. Megumi-Chan needed another attire. Her wig feels… okay at best and her white booties are acceptable, though a more sober dress would help her a lot. And since her choreography is simple to begin with and she is dancing a little shyly, her Dancing score will most likely not be very high.”
“Especially because she dances slowly,” Ayumi’s producer, Onda, complemented, “she could use extra accessories. As long as it’s not too flashy, which would contradict with her song about a poor person, she would receive multipliers that could certainly help.”
Naoko and the other girls looked preoccupied, Aratani saw. The man, however, kept a serene semblance and continued analyzing her performance. Despite the inconsistencies, Megumi sang beautifully. She had a dulcet voice. Too bad it had narrow vocal amplitude toward even higher pitches than she already had, as if the girl was not used to speak with variations – meaning, feelings, especially the ones that could make the voice higher, like happiness and fear. Luckily that song didn’t require sudden changes, though it did have periods of sustained singing, which Megumi had some difficulties to perform without losing the breath. It was a slow song, but not an easy one for a greenhorn idol to present. Her interpretation had a touching personal flair that felt just right, however, as if memories or emotions stirred in her heart as she sang it. If that lyric about a person trying to survive and keep his or her humanity evoked memories to Megumi or not was hard to say, but it appeared so and transmitted a powerful message.
In a sense, Megumi reminded Naoko of Umeko. Not of the radiant teenage Umeko she had listened on the old CDs she had on her purse and had forgotten to show Aratani, but of the mature, adult Umeko she watched live on the first show she saw. Though Umeko was obviously more used to the stage and had a better trained voice, songs tailored for her and so on, Megumi was not so different in that she also relied heavily on her singing performance. It was also very memorable, though her dancing was half-forgotten. The girl also didn’t look too much to the judges and only did three timid poses even though she carried herself with extreme grace, even holding the mic with just two fingers and her thumb. It’s very elegant. For such a stunning lady who didn’t look timid, it was underwhelming and got Naoko even more worried.
De
spite the flaws, one thing impressed Naoko: Megumi stood valiantly on the stage until the very end. For a girl who just a week before had started crying and fled the place, it was a drastic change. She still had quite a ways to improve, but she’d done so much it’d be simply wrong if she didn’t qualify. That week was probably exhausting for her. Mentally so, at least. Naoko couldn’t even imagine how hard it should be to have a countdown for overcoming a fear, one she had no clue about, until she had to go back to be evaluated again on a process that had already become traumatizing.
As she sang, even if a bit lower than she should, Megumi looked so absorbed in her song that she appeared to know what she was doing. As if she’d been singing it for weeks, not just three days. Her chorus lines were especially spine chilling, and helped her raise her voice somewhat, making her exhibition much better. It was unfortunate the chorus came so late in the song, but Naoko hoped the judges understood her low voice until then as a build-up for the climax. They weren’t fools, of course, but Naoko was desperate for anything that could count points in favor of her friend. She deserved it.
She had many flaws the judges could probably see, but the most important thing, her personal fight against her terrors and for her dreams of studying and helping people in need, was unfortunately impossible to notice just by looking at her. Naoko felt it was almost unfair, since that knowledge made her presentation that much more incredible. Just to see Megumi not turning tail, but facing her fears alone on that stage was touching.
Her song came to a long and moving closure. She probably had a few tardy dancing responses due to her focus on singing, but she at least nailed the last cue. Her voice silenced the same instant the melody did and the tall girl froze, marking the end of her presentation before moving again. It had been a flawed but emotional and captivating one. She stepped out of the stage and walked back to her friends, looking a bit dizzy but showing a sudden smile. Looking finally relaxed, she arrived on the group and her friends immediately applauded her. They didn’t make noises so as not to call even more unwanted attention, but they showed by their effusive movements how much they appreciated her presentation.
“How was it?” Megumi anxiously asked, and Ayumi nodded with a smile. Harumi also acknowledged silently. Probably they didn’t want to talk about the flaws, but nonetheless appeared to have enjoyed the presentation. Sakura, for once, let Naoko manifest herself first, probably afraid of saying something wrong, and that hesitation made Megumi’s smile falter a little. Naoko retorted in high spirits:
“It was amazing! We were talking here about a few… huh… things we thought you could improve, but overall? I loved it! Really!”
Not exactly worried, but a little less enthusiastic than before, Megumi whispered:
“But… I committed some mistakes, didn’t I? I can see in the eyes of everyone…”
All apologetic faces turned to Naoko as if her friends expected her to ease Megumi’s burden in the stead of the others who were incapable of doing so. Naoko confidently replied:
“Well, yes, there were a few things Megumi-Chan could’ve done… differently. So? Nobody is perfect! And you just had three days to practice! Who cares? More importantly, Megumi-San performed the entire song without running away! You overcame your fears! Wasn’t that the thing that prevented you from becoming an idol? Now you can perform! The rest is just a matter of practice! Your producer ought to receive you back now!”
She saw every other girl honestly nod in agreement. Thinking about that for an instant, Megumi’s smile brightened up. Appearing tranquil again, the girl finally sat down, sighing in relief. Looking suddenly tired but happy, she humbly acknowledged:
“I… think I did, didn’t I? Thanks to all of you! Oh, and the homeless people who helped me too by listening to my improvised rehearsals at the park!” Closing her eyes and sinking in her cushioned seat, she said in a progressively lower voice, “I don’t know about my producer receiving me back just because I managed to sing a full song, since that’s the bare minimum anyone expects of any idol, but I’m glad I met you all. It was amazing to sing without being subjugated by my fears. It felt good. I just hope I did well enough, I’d like to do it again. Now all that’s left is to wait for the results…”
Her voice came to an end and the girl soon slipped into a dreamless sleep. Despite having said she had a nightmare-free night, she looked tired by all she did that week. Respecting her, everyone quieted down for almost an hour. In the meantime Ayumi walked away to change back to her everyday clothes and put her glasses back on in place of the contact lenses, and Naoko, Sakura and Harumi sat a few chairs away to whisper about musical instruments again. It was only after every girl had presented herself and the judges reviewed their tallies to compute the final results that Sakura eagerly woke up Megumi. The girl, though startled, seemed rejuvenated by the nap and, like everyone else, focused on the big screen.
There were forty-three contestants in that audition, a number certainly inflated due to the Golden Week, though two had been disqualified by not showing up. Since the tally was divided in groups of ten, the first screen showed the names of the two ineligible girls and the last place. Then it proceeded to present the results for the thirty-first place until the fortieth, and to everyone’s happiness Megumi’s name wasn’t among them. The result screen, with red outlines and a navy-blue background where silver stars constantly moved around, presented the next ten names, written over round-edged gray slots, and Megumi also wasn’t among them. Each page flipped was a small victory silently cheered by the group. Just Megumi, too humble and concentrated, didn’t react, her eyes hardly blinking.
The screen changed to the eleventh until the twentieth position, and everyone’s hopeful faces were petrified. The inscription “Kobayashi Megumi” was among them, listed in the thirteenth place. Her Singing score was ranked fourth and the Memorability one ranked third, though her Aesthetics earned her just eleventh place and her Dancing, twelfth. Her Devotion score was ranked twenty-first and almost single-handedly ruined her results.
No one cared anymore to see the five names in blue slots occupying the qualifying positions on the page that followed. The group, in silence, turned to Megumi, who kept looking at the screen with a blank stare. Her face slowly became disappointed, and though she tried not to show, she appeared hurt, as if by shame. The girl lowered her face and looked her friends from the sides of her eyes. Seeing her, who had persevered so much, look that way made Naoko’s heart also hurt.
Opening her mouth, Megumi appeared to want to say something, but nothing came out. She just leaned forward, holding the back of the seat in front of her. Though she seemed almost as if she was already expecting that, her face grew sadder by each passing second.
No one dared to move or to be the first to talk. Naoko felt horrible for being unable to do anything, and the silence just increased the pressure on her friend, though the more she thought about what she could do, the more she discarded ideas without coming up with anything to say. That has been her last chance, after all. Whatever she could say wouldn’t change reality.
After the shock, Megumi sighed. Clasping her hands uncomfortably over her belly, she gave an embarrassed look to all the concerned people there. Aratani seemed the only person who kept a cool face, maybe as if he already expected that result too. No one seemed angry or humiliated her like she probably came to expect, but the sad faces of those around her hurt her nevertheless. The girl, in the limited space between the rows of seats, stood up, being promptly mimicked by the others. She humbly bowed an awful lot and, with an almost muted voice that sounded serene but unsteady, thanked:
“I… can’t express… my gratitude for… for everything… all of you… did to me. I…” her disappointed, albeit calm, façade started to dismantle as the girl grew ashamed and her eyes got full of water, “I’m… deeply sorry… for the trouble… I caused to… everyone. I’m… sorry… for…” her voice finally broke and lost its balance “I’m sorry… for failing you all!”
/> As tears started to roll down and scramble her makeup, the girl abruptly turned and meant to run away. Not even Aratani, who appeared so cool, seemed to expect that. He tried to say something, but it was Naoko who, with lightning-fast reflexes, grabbed her friend’s hand before she could gain speed.
“Wait, Megumi-Chan!” she begged, “If you run away we won’t be able to help y…! Well… not really “help”… but please don’t go! Let’s talk!”
Unable to even turn to face Naoko, the other girls and the two concerned producers, Megumi swept her tears ashamedly and hid her face behind her forearm while saying:
“I can’t p-possibly ask for any more help! I f-failed again! Please, Naoko-Chan, let me…”
Shaking her head negatively and refusing to let her go, Naoko insisted:
“You didn’t fail, Megumi-Chan! You performed your whole song! You even ranked fourth in singing and third in Memorability!”
Sakura, leaping the row of chairs in front of her and running around to flank Megumi and cut her escape route, rapidly agreed to Naoko while also carefully sweeping a tear from Megumi’s face:
“And that’s even with a bad choice of costume! We’re talking about how a pink outfit would screw you over if you sing a sad song like that!”
“Uh-huh! Uh-huh!” Harumi mumbled approvingly and gravely recalled, “And Megumi-Chan only had three days to practice! And she rehearsed in a park for homeless people? That’s hardly an adequate circumstance, but like Naoko-Chan said, you performed remarkably well even then!”
Ashamed, Megumi stopped fighting to get free and, hiding her face with her free hand, murmured, her voice affected by the crying:
“I d-didn’t perform well!”
With her cute voice tender but her speech direct and analytic, Ayumi rationally reasoned:
“I know Megumi-Chan will find it hard to believe that we’re not simply making things up to cheer you up, but everything said so far is true. Look at your Aesthetics score: it was probably maintained by your personal charm and the integrity of your outfit at the end of your rather slow-paced presentation, because your costume is really a poor choice for an emotional blues. Also, you have probably just one modifier, your wig, counting on your favor. Since your dance is slow and your choreography not overly complex, you could wear many accessories to improve your modifiers. It’d certainly make your Aesthetics score go up by a lot. The bonuses would surely help all the other categories too. Also, you sang too low for more than half of your performance and still managed to earn fourth place in Singing, because it was so good. And if you just looked to the judges and posed a few times to each your Devotion would not hold you back! I know because I also have problems with the Devotion category. Overall, for a girl who just learned this choreography three days ago, who had barely any adequate rehearsals and who just a week ago fled from stages, it was a huge success! And that’s not a lie. Just calm down and think about it for a second. Megumi-Chan will see she had practically performed a miracle instead of a song.”
Staring at the glasses of the gentle Wood class idol as if looking for traces that she didn’t mean what she said, Megumi’s breath gradually returned to normal even if tears continued to pour. Onda exchanged looks with Aratani, as if asking him something with the eyes. Naoko’s producer appeared confident for some reason, but as he breathed to start talking his own idol asked before him:
“Megumi-Chan, what is there more to prove? You can talk with your producer! Like I said before, you already overcame your fears! Now it’s just a matter of refining your technique! We all can testify to her that you’ve changed! Oh, Aratani-San even reco…”
The man immediately jumped a seat and extended his wide arm to shut her mouth before Naoko’s loud speech could be heard by other people. Turning to Megumi, the confident man coolly revealed in whispers:
“Naoko talks too loudly about prohibited things, but yes, I recorded your performance to show you and you producer. It may come in handy.”
Megumi, with teary eyes, was embarrassed but grateful, and modestly interrogated:
“Aratani-San s-shouldn’t have done such r-risky things for me. Hum… Aratani-San? Onda-San? Please… can you two… answer a q-question truthfully? As producers, w-would… any of you… accept back an… an idol… who f-failed, fled from the seven first tries… she had, j-just because of s-some… ah… small improvement on her… last c-contest?”
Though the girl spoke lowly of herself, her eyes were wishful. The two men exchanged brief looks and Aratani politely gestured to his colleague do the honors, which Onda did:
“I would. Megumi-San, producing an idol is not a simple task and is certainly not a precise science either. When we, producers, people who studied and invested in such a profession, choose an idol, we’re well aware there are no guarantees she will succeed. We look for hints that a girl would be a good idol and opt to invest or not in her. And you visibly possess many qualities. We can look at the video of your audition and I’ll point it to you. Like I said, your producer chose you because she believed in you, but she most likely knew even the best girls are not guaranteed to succeed. She may be frustrated, but I think she doesn’t hold a grudge against you. Still, with such an investment your producer probably did in you, it’d be good to see it pay off, even after many tries. There are idols who start slowly and develop into meteoric careers. Furthermore, Megumi-San had no “small” improvement. Going from seven consecutive no contests to thirteenth place while also getting third in Memorability and fourth in Singing with a song you had just three days to practice is a big feat. Your friends are right in what they say.”
Aratani, nodding to his peer, complemented:
“Well said. I make Onda-San’s words mine. The question is not if your producer would accept you back. Rather, if Megumi-San had faith in her skills and knew for certain she could improve even more and pay back the investment done by your producer, would she like to be accepted back?”
Megumi, with dried up tears but reddened eyes circled by ruined makeup, affirmed without too much of a delay:
“I would, Aratani-San. I thought about it all this week. I… would like it. I… liked to perform on this audition. I know it’s not a show, but… before, I tried to look cheerful, and it just felt wrong. I tried to be like I thought my producer would like me to be, I think, but deep inside I feared… having to pretend being someone I was not, in a place full of rivals. But now… I know I could sing songs that speak true to me all along, and Naoko-Chan… and you, Aratani-San… and everyone… stand by me. I don’t feel alone anymore. I also understood what made me so frightened of stages, thanks to Rin-Chan. If only I knew everything I now know and had all of you, wonderful people, by my side back then…” the girl’s lips started to tremble as she humbly lowered her head, “Though I don’t have that faith in myself. I’m not sure I’d be able to pay my producer back even if I asked her for another chance based on a small improvement. It’s… best not to bother her… and maybe fail her again.”
Sighing, the girl looked sadder than ever as she spoke to the other girls:
“I’m happy, however, to see Naoko-Chan, Ayumi-Chan, Harumi-Chan and Sakura-Chan have bright futures ahead of them,” tears rolled down again, though the girl kept her caring smile and humble attitude unchanged, “I… only w-wish… I c-could keep… being friends… with…”
Moved, Naoko and Sakura each got a hold of one of her hands while immediately stating, each their own way, that they’d keep being friends no matter what. That got Megumi smiling, though her face was heartrendingly miserable.
“It is a big improvement Megumi-San had in just a week,” Aratani retorted with a chill attitude, “You have talent, girl. I could’ve thought beforehand that you only had one outfit that was ill suited for your songs and your personality after that change of heart you had. Part of the fault for your failure is mine too. But…”
“No, don’t say that, Aratani-San!” Megumi interrupted him, drying up her tears, “Naoko-Chan is your ido
l! You had no obligations with me!”
Everyone’s eyes returned to the tall man, who calmly resumed his speech:
“Megumi-San is partially right, but the instant I decided to help you as a producer, I had to act like one. It was a lack of foresight from my part. Still, I was thinking about your situation for some time, and I thought it’d be to expect too much from any girl that she got everything right on her first attempt. Or, at least, the “first” attempt after so many changes. Take Naoko-Chan as an example: I’m giving her two chances on each Golden Week day. It paid off the last time, because an earring fell from her and she flopped her first try on Tuesday. We learned with our mistakes and corrected it, and on that same day she performed again and qualified. And I thought, “Well, I’m giving my own idol, who is fairly confident in her skills, two tries, so why not do the same for Megumi-San?” Turns out I had your documents with me, so…”
Under everyone’s staggered eyes, the man unhurriedly produced from his suitcase the contract Naoko saw him print earlier that day on his office and handed it to Megumi. Shocked, the girl’s hands started to shake involuntarily as she got a hold of the papers. Her stunned face gradually got twisted by sudden and overwhelming emotions. The girl extended the contract far away so that abrupt tear that rolled down didn’t destroy it. Harumi, Sakura, Ayumi and Naoko, recovering from their astonishment, were electrified. Even the usually more placid girls reacted in overjoyed jumps, while Sakura and Naoko hugged everyone else, including the baffled Megumi, and, jumping up and down, started yelling happily inside the mostly emptied auditorium.
The two producers rapidly hushed the group down before the three judges who waited there for the contestants of the next audition protested.
“Yaaay! Did you know it, Naoko-Chan?!” Ayumi asked, and her friend replied overjoyed, “No! I saw my producer printing it before we left the office and I could’ve noticed something was odd when Megumi-Chan handed her own contract to that unintelligible secretary, but I didn’t pay attention back then!” With an angry face, even though she was in reality more than happy, she asked, “Produ-San, why didn’t you tell us sooner?! We’re suffering here! Wanted to be a last-minute hero or something, you idiot?!”
With a half-smile, the man directed everyone to the waiting hall outside, under the sunlight that came from the large windows, and replied jokingly:
“What can I say? I like to make surprises and to torture girls a little with delusions,” on a more serious tone, he explained, “No. I just didn’t want Megumi-San to know she’d have another chance if she performed well enough because it’s important for her to do her best on her first attempt. If not, we might’ve missed clues as to what could be changed. Thanks to it, I can show her how she performed on her best shot and she’ll hopefully see what everyone else can see already: that she improved a lot and have potential. I’m sorry for putting you, Megumi-San, through all of this, but trust me, it was a necessary experience.”
The crying girl was too embarrassed and shocked to speak, but she smiled and bowed to express gratitude. Onda, looking impressed, congratulated him:
“That’s incredibly generous of you, Aratani-San. I’m speechless.”
“Humph. I won’t be humble this time, it really was slightly generous,” Aratani agreed, appearing a bit distressed, “Mostly because I did her subscription today. There weren’t many auditions with vacancies left. In fact there was only one, the least interesting of them all. The thing is: during the Golden Week I am registering Naoko-Chan to two auditions each day: a very disputed one and another, to a less attractive gig, just so she can fall back to an easier audition, with less idols and hopefully less prepared girls, if she doesn’t manage to qualify on the first one. Turns out Megumi-San’s final chance is also Naoko-Chan’s second try. There was no other option but to do it. Problem is, they’re not only going to be performing against one another, but one can force the other out of the qualifying zone.”
All the girls partially lost their smiles. Suddenly concerned, Megumi glanced at Naoko and stared at the contract in her shaky hands. Her expression changed and the girl, crying even more ashamedly than before, extended the papers back to Aratani.
“I… I can’t… p-perform… against N-Naoko-Chan! I… am sorry! I know Aratani-San p-paid for it and m-means well, and had a lot of t-trouble just for me, but… I’d n-never… try to… to defeat y-your own idol… and my f-friend! N-Not that I’d b-be able to… but…!
Aratani stared seriously at the copiously crying girl and folded his arms, not taking the sheets back. Naoko, resting a hand on Megumi’s shoulder, reassured her with a radiant smile:
“Hey, Megumi-Chan, don’t worry! Like Aratani-San said, it’s also my second try. If I can qualify on my first attempt there’s no need for me to attend to another audition! And even if I have to, there are five qualifying slots, not just one, right, Produ-San?”
“Yes,” he agreed, “So it’s not the end of the world. Truth be said, I acted on a request from Naoko-Chan and chose for her two shows with a three hour difference, so if she could qualify on both, she’d have enough time to attend both and get two show points.” He saw Naoko frown on his disheartening explanation that made Megumi feel bad again, but the man calmed her down with a confident face and proceeded, “Unlike what Naoko-Chan is probably thinking, taking by her cold stare, I’m not telling this to you so as to sap your motivation, Megumi-San, but because I know you’re a smart girl. You’ll eventually figure this out, and if you do so before your performance it can spell doom to your second attempt. Also, I’d like to point out it’s not the end of the world if you defeat Naoko-Chan. She has five star points on her first month as an idol, something I personally never heard about before. Probably it has already occurred previously, but I’m not aware of any girl who did this feat. Not without having previously being part of a band or having experience on stages. She’s just that good, and I’m willing to bet it won’t be a loss that’ll change that. If anything, it’ll show you just how good you really are Megumi-San. Maybe it’ll even teach Naoko-Chan not to go easy on you, if she does it!”
Unfolding his arms, Aratani used them on sporadic, confident gestures.
“She’ll have three other days, six attempts, just during the Golden Week to recoup this loss, while as for you, Megumi-San, I regret to inform I have no tricks left up my sleeve. Now it really is your last chance to prove your valor as an idol and secure your job. I say even though you’re not the idol I produce, your situation is far direr than Naoko-Chan’s, so trust me on performing today again. Not doing so would be more hazardous to Naoko-Chan than defeating her. And, as she previously said, there are five qualifying slots and a bunch of lesser idols disputing this arguably not all that appetizing audition. If we do the necessary changes, maybe you, who for good or for worse already have five months of previous training, can win. Maybe you two can even perform on that show tonight together. You should seriously consider giving this last chance a shot.”
With wet eyes reflecting the sun that came from the windows by the lobby they had returned to, Megumi exchanged looks with her hopeful and encouraging friends. She stood silent for a moment, thinking while looking at the contract on her shaking hands. Naoko, noticing her friend still had a heavy heart, reminded her:
“Don’t just think about me and Aratani-San, Megumi-Chan! Think about your dreams! What about your university degree and those homeless people that count on you?”
Megumi’s pupils suddenly contracted as her eyes opened larger.
“And that’s not all!” Sakura invaded the conversation, “What about us all?! We also want Megumi-Chan to continue with us! I mean, we will keep being friends no matter what, but come on! There are things we can only do as idols! Like… attending to auditions and shows together and stuff!”
Harumi exchanged agreeing looks with her sister and declared:
“Sakura is right. We already have plans for our group, and to lose someone right from the start is not nice. Not to menti
on you’d be going against Naoko-Chan and Aratani-San’s will and wasting everyone’s efforts by not accepting to perform on that last audition and doing your best. Naoko-Chan, Aratani-San, Ayumi-Chan, Onda-San, your homeless friends, this Rin-Chan you say, even me and my sister’s coins to the lucky ponds, which arguably is far less helpful than everyone else’s efforts. Everything will go to waste.”
“Not to mention you own producer’s trust and efforts,” Ayumi recalled with her introverted, low voice, “She believes in you, Megumi-Chan. She deserves to see your best shot. To know she wasn’t wrong believing in you. I believe she wasn’t. Look how hard you tried to overcome your fears and practiced this week. Naoko-Chan said you even spent your hard-earned money on one dancing class, all you could afford. If anyone deserves to be an idol is you. We, your friends, need you. I.S.S.G. also needs more idols like you, kind and humble. Even our society needs to have positive references like Megumi-San, a person with morals. Today you may be the one being helped, but only time can tell how things will unfold. Maybe someday Megumi-Chan will be a famous idol and be the one supporting those in need. Better than you already do, even. You know better than anyone here that everyone needs help, and to receive it is no shame. Not if, with it, you find your way in life and pass the kindness you received to others one day.”
Megumi’s hands slowly got steadier while her mind stormed. Tears rolled copiously, but the girl progressively grew used to the idea. Finally making up her mind under peer pressure and agreement with all that was said, Megumi faced her friends with pure humbleness and gratitude. She bowed far more than it was usual to do among friends and acquaintances, her tears falling to the marble-like, white and shining floor.
“Everyone… thanks! I swear… I’ll do my best and repay… everyone… however I can!”
Her vow reminded Naoko an awful lot of Aratani’s friend, Mitsui Shoichi, and his similar promise to the producer. Despite his magnanimity, while everyone was so glad the man didn’t even look moved, oddly. In fact, his face was pondering, almost as if he asked himself if he’d done the right thing. It was only when Naoko smiled gladly to him that the producer came out of his slightly gloomy and uncharacteristic behavior. Sighing, he said:
“Come on, Naoko-Chan. Let’s get in line before we’re late for your own audition. And you come with us, Megumi-San. After Naoko’s audition we’ll have lunch, discuss your first performance and go buy a new outfit for you.”
Megumi looked suddenly bothered. She hesitantly followed the two along with the others, though she commented:
“I… would love to, but… I… have barely any money left for myself… I… spent my last few pennies on that Dancing class. Which was totally worthy, I might add!”
Knowing very well how it was to be next to penniless since she was on that same situation, Naoko glanced to her producer just to evaluate what he seemed to think. Though she kind of came to expect it, it was also surprising and uplifting to see Aratani react as if he already expected that. In spite of looking for some reason a wee bit sour, just like he acted when talking about his long-time friend Mitsui, Aratani said:
“I was aware of it. It turns out Megumi-San promised me fifty hundred Yen in return if she won an audition, so I might just use some of it in advancement to buy you an outfit.”
“But…!” Megumi raised embarrassed eyes, “But if Aratani-San registered me in two auditions, supposing each cost a ten-thousand Yen fee, and you’re going to buy me stage-quality clothes on top of that, Aratani-San will most likely receive nothing in return even if I win! Not to mention I can… maybe… not… not win… I’ll do my best, I know, but…! That’s unacceptable!”
Aratani handed the gibberish-talking secretary Naoko’s documents and, turning to find the group’s respectful countenances facing him, he replied:
“Tough luck. You know what’s unacceptable, Megumi-Chan? You sing heartbreaking songs wearing a cheerful, pink sailor suit and having no modifiers counting for you. That will only net you another loss. If we’re serious about you having any real chances of winning, we’ll need to make some investments. And I’m serious about winning here.” Turning to the secretary and thanking her, he added, “It is just like Ayumi-San said: today you’re being helped, but if we play our cards right tomorrow you may be the one doing the same for us or for someone else. Just don’t think too hard about the clothes thing or you’ll lose your focus and doom our venture.”
He gestured to Naoko to go to the dressing room, which the amazed girl promptly acknowledged. Harumi interrupted her, however, apologizing:
“Are you going get changed and photographed, Naoko-Chan? I’m sorry, but Sakura and I need to go. We actually escaped from our office since our class only starts after noon and we wanted to root for Megumi-Chan! Sorry, everyone. I just want to say that you’re amazing, Aratani-San! And Megumi-Chan, we’ll be rooting for you!”
“Please do your best, Megumi-Chan! Hope you win! Be sure to call us and say how things turned out!” Sakura energetically wished, exchanging contact information with Megumi and Ayumi. She and Harumi departed hurriedly and Naoko did the same, in the opposite direction. As she did, she heard he childish voice of Ayumi speaking timidly but confidently:
“Aratani-San, I’m… moved by you and Naoko-Chan’s sacrifices. I can’t let you foot Megumi-Chan’s clothes bill. Please, let me pay it. I want to help her too.”
Ayumi’s idea was that she paid Megumi’s tab with her own money, though in the end it was Onda who did it, also out of respect for Aratani’s endeavor. Megumi didn’t want it, but there was no other way. Because of that, initially the humble girl tried to choose inexpensive clothes so as not to burden everyone, but the two producers quickly noticed that and rectified the situation, reminding her that cheap outfits would be a waste of money since they’d not net her a victory.
It occurred after Naoko’s audition. Ayumi apparently had no reason to stay, though she also didn’t have any appointments until five p.m., and her show would only start by seven. Her producer inquired if she didn’t want him to drive her back home and pick her up by four so she could get some rest, but the introverted girl, with a sudden reaction that looked strange coming from her, asked:
“No, please Onda-San!” Looking to the startled people around, she added in a lower and slower voice, “I want to see this through…and cheer for Megumi-Chan. Please.”
The man said he had some appointments at the office concerning the other idols and had to excuse himself, but agreed to come back in two hours and a half to buy Megumi her clothes and root for her too. Like that he departed. So did Megumi, to the toilet to clean up her makeup.
Naoko’s first audition had more than seventy contestants, though the girl was hardly impressed. After having performed for more than three thousand people the night before she was as calm and resolute as possible, and did remarkably well. In fact, her dancing and singing were among the best there, and that perfectionist girl, Ruby, was nowhere to be found. The other contestants were good, but Naoko was smooth as silk on that one and her cheerful personality, uninhibited by any fear, was mesmerizing. She danced without any care in the world and had fun, going from one side of the stage to the other. Her producer from the back seemed to wave to her, motioning his arms in the form of a square as if trying to say something, though. It was almost at the end of her song that she noticed there were white demarcations in the big stage from where she wasn’t supposed to leave.
As Aratani later explained, leaving boundaries counted as if the idol had fell from the stage, which nullified all modifiers she had and added a moderate negative one. Even then Naoko managed to rank fifteenth place. In his calculations, if it weren’t for her distraction she would’ve probably ranked third or so on that disputed audition. The girl, a little disappointed but not really fazed, just like her producer, scratched her head, explaining:
“I think I got carried away by yesterday’s show on a large stage and… I kinda forgot I could be auditioned for performing on a two b
y two stall again… I’m sorry, Produ-San.”
Though not happy, the man let it slip with a nonchalant advice:
“At least we know you could’ve qualified on one of today’s main events. Just, for goodness’ sake, keep your attention and be careful not to commit the same mistake again, Naoko-Chan. You can’t expect me to remind you of everything I’ve already told you before every audition.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll be more mindful from now on, Produ-San,” Naoko promised, and her producer dropped the subject. The girl felt stupid, though, because Megumi looked even more tense, as if Naoko’s loss at the first audition restarted her worries about her friend failing at the second one too. With the help of Ayumi, Naoko eased Megumi’s concerns for some time, while they walked around the shopping area and waited in the food court lines. In the end, though, it was once again Aratani who helped Megumi calm down by unexpectedly joking, calling her a bird once again due to the type of food the vegetarian girl chose to eat, rich in grains.
While they were lunching, Aratani showed Megumi the video of her audition on his smartphone, surprising her. Though she didn’t want to admit, Naoko could see her friend was content about the way she performed. They started then to go over each of Megumi’s flaws and what was good. Ayumi’s help was especially insightful and precious. Naoko was so astonished by her friend’s knowledge that she casually asked how many auditions she had already been to, and was staggered by the response.
According to Ayumi she had already performed ninety-six auditions and an almost equal number of shows along the two years she had worked as an idol. That included the ten show points she was required to promote from Dark class, the fifteen show points demanded to be promoted from Sea class to Sky class, the twenty required to reach Earth class and, finally, the twenty-five points used to advance to the Wood class in the Intermediate League. The three class-promoting cups she had been part of were also computed in the seventy points she had amassed until reaching the Intermediate League. With the exception of the Dark-class, which had no cups and merely required a special event for promotion, the other classes’ cups counted towards the point tally, so for example, in order to reach Sky class a Sea class idol was required fifteen show points, though she only needed fourteen to be accepted in a cup, since if she won, the subsequent show would add the final point.
Including the two shows she had performed as a Wood idol, both being a two-points gig, she had ninety-six tries and nailed seventy-two of them. Aratani was staggered by what he evaluated as a superb streak.
“Usually a good idol is expected to qualify on around thirty-five to forty percent of the auditions she is registered to. Anything beyond fifty percent is excellent. Seventy-five percent, Ayumi-Chan’s mark so far, is… outstanding.”
“I can imagine. But how much outstanding, exactly?” Naoko questioned, making some calculations “Ayumi-Chan said once that one every twenty idols reach the Intermediate League before two years of performing, and if each year has around fifty-two weeks, it leaves us with one hundred and four weeks. I know they usually have a few months of training before starting to compete, but they also have Saturdays and Sundays on each week, along with the Golden Week, a few holidays and summer break, and whatever. So let’s consider they have about one hundred tries during the first two years. To obtain seventy points to go from Dark to Wood class, one every twenty idols, or about five percent, need to win around three fourths of all auditions they perform? Is that it?”
Aratani looked confused and turned to Ayumi, who shyly explained:
“Huh… not really. I didn’t say one every twenty idols reach the Intermediate League before two years of performing. I said one every twenty idols who reach the Intermediate League, do so before two years of performing. There are many idols who never reach it, though.”
Only then agreeing, Aratani said:
“Now it makes sense. Yes, Ayumi-San is correct. You see, there are around twenty-nine thousand idols currently working on the Idol Star System Generation, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Twenty-nine thousand?!” Naoko repeated baffled, and Megumi agreed, surprised.
“Yes,” Aratani replied while accessing a few documents on a restricted area of the I.S.S.G.’s website through his phone, “I believe the number of all-time subscriptions is well over fifty thousand, though many give up and a few who already worked on bands before the I.S.S.G. retired along the years. Twenty-nine thousand is, I think, the current number, give or take a few hundreds. Though around fourteen thousand of those are Dark-class idols. In reality, an active idol account doesn’t mean the girl attends auditions regularly, or at all. Some are still in training, some just try their lucks on auditions sporadically and so on. Some, like Sakura and Harumi, were just hired by confused or unprofessional producers. Who knows what goes on. The thing is, there’re…” he looked at the documents on his phone, “fourteen thousand, five hundred and forty two idols currently at the “Dark class”. It’s almost more than every other classes summed up. Compare it to the one thousand, two hundred and eighty five idols on the two classes of the Intermediate League.”
Naoko asked to see that document. It was a spreadsheet with data for investors. In it there were many financial information that reminded her again of her out of the blue idea to start investing money in stocks, but for the time being she concentrated on the list. There were eight thousand, two hundred and twenty one Sea class idols; three thousand, five hundred and eighty six Sky idols; one thousand, and seven hundred and three Earth idols, composing the Minor League, which had thirteen thousand, five hundred and ten girls; in the Intermediate League there were eight hundred and fifteen Wood class idols, like Ayumi, and four hundred and seventy Fire class idols. On the Major League there were just two hundred and forty seven Metal class idols and fifty-two Water idols. The number was a little bigger because there were five Star idols counted as part of the Major League. Overall, there were Twenty-nine thousand, six hundred and forty one girls and women currently active in I.S.S.G., about half of those full-fledged idols and the rest in probation period.
With incredulous eyes, Naoko inquired:
“B-But… how is it possible?! Where do all these idols come from?! I… I’ve never seen so many girls here! Even our Dark-class Golden Week auditions have, like, forty, sixty or eighty people each! I know there are many auditoriums and auditions happen for a dozen hours or so on each, but… it’s still strange!”
“Naoko-Chan needs to take into account that these numbers encompass all the idols registered and actively working for I.S.S.G. in the world,” Aratani reminded her, “Well, it means just Japan, really, but despite this building being the headquarter of the conglomerate, there are other I.S.S.G.’s centers besides this one. Aside from Tokyo I’m sure there’s at least one in Kyoto. There is one somewhere in Hokkaido too, though I don’t know exactly where, and there might be more. So despite the Tokyo headquarter being the largest of them, no, Naoko-Chan is not going to find all idols here. More than half of them are located elsewhere, I think.” Turning to Ayumi, he questioned, “Hum, does Ayumi-San remember why were we talking about all of this in the first place? Naoko-Chan’s curiosity frequently derails my trains of thought.”
“Yes,” Ayumi responded with her usual low voice, almost a whisper, “It was about her question as to how rare was it for an idol to obtain a seventy-five percent qualifying streak.”
“Oh, right! Thank you, Ayumi-San,” Aratani said, “As we were saying, one every twenty idols who reach the Intermediate League do so in less than two years. It means about five percent of the number of Wood idols, roughly speaking. Around forty idols. The math is more complex than just seeing how much forty idols represent in the almost thirty thousand total, but since the proportion of people among classes is more or less constant seeing I.S.S.G. control it by the number of cups it creates, it’s a good start. Divide forty by the amount of idols belonging to each class up to the Wood one, around twenty-eight thousand, and Naoko-Chan will have a
n idea of how rare it is to find a girl like Ayumi-San. And that’s just saying she managed to do this in two years. We’re not actually talking about her seventy-five percent success tally, since a girl could just as well take part in two auditions every Friday, Saturday and Sunday for two years, flop eighty percent of them or so and still manage to do it. No one does it because they need to practice and other things, but it’s a possibility. Now do you understand why I’m so surprised?”
As Naoko and Megumi stared breathlessly at her, Ayumi blushed, looking down to her dish through her glasses and smiling faintly while thanking Aratani in whispers. The man joked:
“I’m pretty sure we talked about all of this just to answer Naoko-Chan’s question of how could Ayumi-San know so much and do such a good analysis of Megumi-San’s performance, right? Thanks Naoko-Chan, I love when your curiosity costs us five minutes due to sidetracking.”
Sarcastically, Naoko replied in high-spirits
“You’re welcome! In any case Produ-San saved time! If you hadn’t answered it, my fist would’ve cost you ten minutes due to being knocked out cold! Let’s get back to business then?”
Ayumi’s experience and analytical mind proved to be invaluable for helping Megumi not only find her mistakes in the video, but also learn ways to correct it. Her low voice, her lack of eye contact with the judges and the lack of poses, her actions on the stage prior to the beginning of the song, her shy movements, the bad tempo for a few choreographic cues, her stiffness and lack of mobility on the stage, the lack of facial expressions and other topics were addressed. Ayumi also praised her voice and interpretation, her personal beauty, her heartfelt actions, her sincerity when singing about hardships and other things just so Megumi kept in mind she also did things right and had positive characteristics backing her up.
As helpful as it had been, Naoko only got truly excited when it was time to go shopping with Ayumi and Megumi. Once Onda returned they walked around the mall for almost an hour, rushing inside stores and splitting up to see each article of clothe before their audition started. The group discussed what would look best in Megumi while also keeping true to her identity and her songs. It had to be something mature, so bright colors were out with the exception on white. Her white booties were not too extravagant and felt elegant, so they’re spared. Since the girl sang about poor people it’d be in bad taste to give her fancy jewelries and overly chic clothes. Megumi was a gorgeous and graceful girl, but she was also very humble.
Dark colors were probably favored, though Megumi said she wasn’t very comfortable with black when Naoko suggested a pair of pants instead of skirts or shorts. Everyone agreed, though Megumi humbly commented the pants Naoko chose were black leather ones. Not only the color felt oppressive, but Megumi was also a vegetarian because, in her words, she abhorred animal killings – with the exception of insects. She respected them for their roles in nature, but was so afraid of them she had no problems if someone else killed an insect as long as it wasn’t a butterfly and the bug had “attacked” her first. She still disliked people who went out of their way to kill bugs, though.
Naoko thought about a dark gray instead, but it just looked wrong. It was Ayumi who suggested the best alternative: brown. At first Naoko was reticent because no one she knew liked brown, but the way Ayumi put together a costume it just felt perfect for Megumi. The coffee-colored, low waistline-cut tight pants she chose looked mature and stunning with Megumi’s white footwear, and Ayumi chose a faux leather white belt to go along. Megumi’s only gripe was that the pants were a little too tight, even though it fit her perfectly. The group lost some time until they understood what the modest girl embarrassedly tried to say: it wasn’t a matter of the pants being uncomfortable, but that it molded too well around her backsides. Naoko laughed when she understood it and pestered her directly and unabashedly:
“Seriously, the “problem” is that these pants accentuate Megumi-Chan’s marvelous rear?”
“Don’t say that, please!” Megumi embarrassedly pleaded, blushing and hiding her back against a wall. Naoko, smiling, remembered:
“You act just like me the first time I went shopping with Aratani-San. Relax, Megumi-Chan! There’s nothing to be ashamed of! Worst-case scenario Megumi-Chan will receive bonus points for flashing the well-fit behinds of your pants unwantedly to the judges!”
Ayumi quickly intervened, stating “Naoko-Chan is not helping Megumi-Chan feel better!” before Naoko’s jokes made Megumi flee ashamedly. The idol with glasses suggested Megumi tied a small veil on her waistline, and Naoko promptly agreed:
“Oh, that’s an amazing idea, Ayumi-Chan! This way Megumi-Chan’s outstanding ass won’t…” stopping to laugh from Megumi’s red-face, Naoko toned it down, “I’m just teasing you! But it’s a good idea, really! We can make it partially hide her back but not completely and it’ll also give some sort of elegance and mystery!” In whispers, she added to Ayumi, “Also, a little sexiness, probably, but it’s better she doesn’t hear it.”
“I heard it!” Megumi, discomfited, announced. Naoko, with half-closed eyes, jokingly whispered to Ayumi again, now fully aware her flushed friend could hear it, “Take note: her booty and bosom are not her only well-developed physical characteristics, she also has well above-average hearing.”
Despite that Naoko pestered her friend a few more times before getting done with it and Megumi reacting to compliments as if she was being tortured, not unlike Naoko herself sometimes did when the person praising her wasn’t joking, the shopping spree was a lot of fun for the three girls. They got her a white and moss-green veil that they adjusted so that it covered just a little more than the left half of her backside. Naoko then suggested a sophisticated sleeveless white mini-shirt that left the navel exposed and Megumi responded as if she thought her friend was joking, though this time she wasn’t. Along with a brown denim vest-blouse, small and made to be kept open at all times, Naoko’s suggestion impressed and pleased everyone. Even Megumi acknowledged it was a very pretty combination, though it was a little too daring for her. That time, though, the producers and Ayumi stood by Naoko, and the glasses girl appeased her.
Megumi looked hopeless at first, but she closed her eyes for a moment and sighed.
“I guess… that’s one of the things my nightmare was telling me. Hum… I… I’ll… try…”
It reminded Naoko she still didn’t know about Rin’s dream interpretation results and asked her friend again to tell her once she was done. Megumi changed to her new attire in the dressing room and came out of it with red cheeks but a determined face. She looked superb. In fact, she looked even better with her real hair, medium-length and of a lustrous black with a half fringe, complete with a few spikes, than she’d probably do with her blue wig. It felt more genuine and, to someone who tried to look as mature as her personality already was, it was simply perfect.
Megumi promised Naoko and Ayumi to explain the interpretation Rin did for her nightmare once they returned to the auditorium, since there were too many people around the shopping and the girl was a little ashamed. Speaking of which, once they bought her the mini-shirt and the vest blouse Megumi walked back to the dressing room as if to revert back to her plain, everyday clothes, but Aratani quickly called her back and requested the humble girl kept wearing her stage outfit while in the shopping mall. It was the same tactic he used with Naoko and she endorsed it. Though Megumi was very reticent, it helped her get used to it.
To complement it they bought a pair of short, brown gloves and a dark tea-colored beret. Since her choreography was slow and had no gravity-defying tricks, it was safe to buy her a pair of simple, pressure earrings made of brass. They also got her a small copper necklace and a thin armband of the same material. A white wristband completed her looks. To all of those who accompanied her, it looked fabulous, though Megumi still walked awkwardly, as if leaning forward a little. Ayumi noticed it and inquired:
“Megumi-Chan, you’re hunching a little. Why is…?”
Though
Megumi initially denied it, it became clear to Ayumi why was that so. The mini-shirt Naoko chose accentuated Megumi’s breasts. At least in comparison to other girls her age, her bust was large and the shirt had some cleavage. It was further highlighted by the necklace. The girl embarrassedly apologized for not having said anything before buying those things since she didn’t want to seem ungrateful. Still, she looked so concerned with it that the others feared she could fall back to her timid acting. Despite that, those items were already bought, so they thought about an alternative.
While everyone was suggesting buying another shirt, Onda, while talking with Aratani, had an idea. Both men wore ties. It was a formal and mature piece of dress, and could somewhat cover Megumi’s gap between her breasts. It was hardly a permanent choice, but they had little time to think about anything else. Megumi tried a few ties Ayumi and Naoko chose and finally opted for a small, dark-green and chocolate-colored one. She’d much rather prefer a long tie that also covered her belly button, but that was not among the choices she was given. Still, it eased her mind somewhat. They took her necklace away due to it and Naoko improvised an anklet for Megumi with it.
Her outfit had cost way more than the thirty thousand Yen Aratani was supposed to receive as a profit if the girl won the audition, though it was paid entirely by Onda. Since the parsimonious Megumi troubled herself with the amount of money spent on clothes, when there’re so many hungry people out there, and with how much her attire weighted on Onda’s budget, Ayumi calmed her by stating with a childish voice full of mature, sound advices:
“Worry not, Megumi-Chan. Wood-class gigs pay at least a few millions of Yen each, so that is no trouble at all. I also understand your point about spending this much in just one outfit when there are hungry people around the world, but once again, I beg that you concentrate on your task. Currently you need it to perform, and hopefully in the future you’ll be able to help those people in need much more effectively than you’d do now by giving them a few tens of thousands Yen worth of food. One step at a time, don’t lose faith on your dreams now, Megumi-Chan.”
Ayumi was a very intelligent person, it seemed. Her arguments were reasonable and, despite being introverted, or maybe exactly because of it, she was very attentive to subtle reactions other people sent off unintentionally. This added to her empathetic ability. She had quite the convincing prowess, and meant well the way she used it. She soothed Megumi’s uneasy mind and paved the way for Naoko to change subjects, reminding her she had yet to talk about her nightmare, as long as she wanted to, and the discoveries she made thanks to Rin. Megumi finally did so after they returned to the floor full of auditoriums and Naoko helped her friend reapply her makeup.