Unfairness. In other words, envy. This was the reason Tadasu had resented Live-On.
“Why should they get to act so boldly, flaunt themselves like that, and still be loved for it? Sure, you could say I brought this on myself—that it was just a clash of philosophies, mine against Live-On’s. And in the end, I lost. But I lost because I was alone. My obsession with perfection only made me intolerant—of my peers, of everyone. And what even is that ‘beautiful truth’ I clung to, anyway? Forcing my ideals down others’ throats? It’s absurd. I was immature. So, so immature...”
“Mm... Well, can’t really blame yourself for not seeing the bigger picture when you’re backed into a corner, can you?” Hareru said.
“But that’s just it, isn’t it?” Tadasu replied. “When all the excuses have run dry, when we’re cornered with no escape, isn’t that when we show our true selves? My seniors have helped me see it: I am weak. A pitiful, fragile excuse for a human being.”
“I see. Then this really wasn’t all just a fetish thing to you.”
Tadasu’s self-blaming words swirled in Hareru’s mind. She closed her eyes, let the weight of their conversation settle, then after a quiet breath:
“I knew it. You’re a diamond in the rough.”
Tadasu couldn’t believe her ears. “I’m a... I’m a what?”
“From the moment I met you, Prez, I saw it. You were a mass of raw talent, just waiting to be refined. There was some baggage there, for sure, a little work to be done to shape and hone that talent, but if we could just get to it, there was the potential to create something incredible.”
“Were you even listening to me? I’m not a diamond or a mass of talent or any of that. I’m just weak.”
“No, you’re not.” Hareru dismissed the notion effortlessly. “You think someone weak would go to such lengths to try and prove to themselves that they’re a good person?”
The question struck Tadasu silent.
“That was a sign of your strength, Prez—more than anything. You’re intensely sensitive, and so is your imagination. You saw more of the world’s darkness than most people ever will. And yet, despite all that, you fought to be good. Even when you were at your lowest, you didn’t let go of that last spark of hope. Does that sound like weakness to you? Sure, you could’ve done things differently. But the heart behind it? That heart is rare, and it’s worth something, Prez. That’s what I see in you.”
“Do I really...have the right to belong here?” Tadasu croaked weakly.
“Sure you do. You passed the selection, didn’t you?” Hareru offered her a gentle smile.
Tadasu let out a soft chuckle. “Well, when you put it that way...”
“Make no mistake, I didn’t bring you in out of pity. But at the same time, that’s all in the past. What you choose to do now, in the future—that’s entirely up to you.”
“Entirely up to me,” Tadasu murmured softly, letting the weight of it sink in.
“You’re young; you got your whole life ahead of you. If you ask me, I would like you to stay in Live-On, of course. But if deep down you feel like you don’t deserve Live-On, or maybe even like Live-On doesn’t deserve you, then that’s your decision to make. You have the gift of realization right now. It’s a sign that you’re trying to become the shining star you really are. And if the place you shine brightest isn’t Live-On, then so be it.”
Silence.
“But can I leave you with one final, neutral thought? No persuasion, no pushing you in any direction.”
Tadasu looked suspiciously at Hareru. “What is it?”
“Let’s say...the whole world is evil, fundamentally so. You, me, everyone. But does that mean anyone’s to blame for it? You, me, anyone?”
The conference room fell into a heavy stillness. Both of them knew they had said everything that needed to be said. Whatever came next would be the final word, the conclusion.
Tadasu found an endless battle within herself. Hareru waited for the outcome. Patiently, quietly—no matter how long it took.
The moment stretched on. Second after second. Minute after minute. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Tadasu looked up, eyes blazing with newfound determination.
“I will.”
The words echoed in the silence, charged with finality. She stood, her voice rising with conviction.
“I, Miyauchi, will...!”
“Hm?”
Stepping outside the Live-On offices, Tadasu noticed that Churiri had texted her during the meeting.
“She wants to talk to me at home, does she?”
With no other plans for the day, she agreed and made her way to Churiri’s apartment. When she arrived, she rang the doorbell and—
“Hey, you’re here!”
“Dagger-chan?”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s me. Come in, come in!”
To Tadasu’s surprise, it wasn’t Churiri who greeted her at the door, but Dagger. Before she could react, Dagger grabbed her hand and pulled her inside the apartment, leading her straight to the living room. There, standing awkwardly in the center, was a visibly nervous Churiri.
“She’s here, like you asked!” Dagger called out.
“R-Right. Welcome.”
“Hm?” Tadasu murmured, one eyebrow rising at Churiri’s unusual stiffness.
Dagger trotted over to Churiri and poked her in the side. “Hey! Say something! I only agreed to this because you’re the one who had ‘so much to say,’ remember?” Dagger whispered, though not quietly enough.
“I-I was getting to it! Don’t rush me!” Churiri whispered back.
Catching Tadasu’s confused look, Churiri cleared her throat, trying to compose herself. She locked eyes with Tadasu and, after a deep breath, spoke in a firm but slightly shaky voice.
“Tadasu-san. Please don’t quit Live-On. If you just quit, I need you to contact them right now and tell them you reconsidered.”
Tadasu’s eyes widened.
“Who cares if you’re not perfect? Who cares if you’re a little hypocritical? I’m one of the many fans who love you exactly as you are, and that’s more than enough reason for you to stay! The next time you’re struggling, reach out to us first—we’re here for you! So don’t you dare think about quitting on me!”
Right after receiving advice from one person, here was another telling her something completely different. People really are all over the place, Tadasu thought again with a sigh.
Before, she would have taken this constant push and pull as another reminder of how disjointed and complicated people were—a source of frustration, something inherently negative. But now, something inside her had changed.
Since joining Live-On, Tadasu had finally confronted what she’d been avoiding all her life: seeing people for what they truly were. In the past, those brief glimpses of others’ true selves had always seemed ugly, imperfect—incomplete. She’d found it easier, almost safer, to rely on her own idealized versions of people rather than deal with their flawed realities. Her imagination had always been more comfortable than the unpredictable mess of existence. But when it came to the members of Live-On, she’d realized that that old, comfortable way of thinking didn’t apply anymore.
Sure, these were strange people, chaotic in ways that made her question everything she knew about human behavior. They were brash, unruly, lacked anything resembling modesty or mindfulness—so much so that to talk about them in any relation to the word “better” seemed laughable. And yet...could she honestly say she preferred keeping them as figments in her mind rather than the raw, vibrant reality?
Were they “good” people? Tadasu wasn’t sure if she could say yes. After all, one person’s good intentions could easily be another person’s malice. That perfect, harmonious world she’d used to cling to, that vision where everyone could understand each other, live peacefully, and fit neatly into her mind’s framework...maybe it had never existed at all.
But here was the surprising truth: People weren’t defined by whether or not they fit into those tidy little boxes. The world itself wasn’t completely painted over with the filth she’d once feared.
And how did she know this?
Because the time she’d spent with these chaotic, messy people, who didn’t even bother hiding their true selves, had been undeniably fun.
Because the days when she let herself voice the thoughts she’d used to bury deep down inside were filled with a sense of freedom.
And because even now, the raw, ugly, complicated emotions that raged in her heart were, no matter what anyone else might say, beautiful.
Tadasu knew herself now, in a way she hadn’t before. And even with her flaws laid bare, she could say this without hesitation: The emotions she had felt while spending time with the girls at Live-On—the joy, the anger, the sadness, the excitement, and even the kindness—were undeniably real. They were hers. Genuine and unfiltered.
“Well, then, shall we stream?” Tadasu asked simply.
“Huh?” the other two replied.
“You want me to stay in Live-On, don’t you? Then let’s stream. Come on, let’s go, get ready.”
At Tadasu’s word, the trio quickly prepared themselves for a guerrilla live stream. When they were ready, the stream hummed to life, and the one to speak first, stealing the chance away from everyone else, was Tadasu Miyauchi.
“How do you all do, everyone? Live-On gen five, Tadasu Miyauchi here.”
The young girl who couldn’t find refuge in her imagination or in reality found it in the virtual world.