“Did... I say something wrong? Then I’m sorry...”
There was a long, awkward silence.
“...becoming an idol is my dream. But when I compare myself to you, Niizono-san... I dunno, it just kinda gets me down.” The silence had rattled her so much that she spoke the truth.
“Oh, well, in that case I’ll be your producer.”
The conversation headed in an unexpected direction.
“But... I can’t even remember the choreography...”
“You’ve got it all wrong. Nobody’s looking for flawless choreography or dancing from idols. Even if you aren’t that good, if you look like you’re working hard at it, the audience will see themselves in you, and empathize. In that sense, you’re way more suited to the idol life than I am.”
“I... am?”
Inside, she was incredibly happy to hear this.
“Yeah! First, let’s make your speech pattern and hairstyle a little more idol-esque. Let’s see here...”
And just like that, Maori Niizono became Mika Furutsuki’s producer. Her hairstyle was their first target. At Maori Niizono’s suggestion, she changed it from long and straight to twin tails, dramatically increasing the cute factor. This also helped with her pale skin, which otherwise looked a little sickly. Next, they looked at her first-person pronoun. She’d been using ‘atashi,’ but instead she started to refer to herself in the third person. Calling herself ‘Mika’ emphasized her youth, and reinforced her character. This matched up well with her short stature.
Using Mika Furutsuki’s new character as a springboard, P-VALUE’s attitude changed. With a very idol-like person at the center, the other girls began to grasp what being in an idol group actually meant. Soon, the rest of the members were joining the two of them for early morning practice, and they began entering idol contests in other districts.
The two girls had more chances to work together, and they grew closer, until everyone considered them best friends. For three glittering, golden years, Mika Furutsuki’s high school life was fantastic. She could feel herself shining as an idol.
It was only afterwards that the problems started. The moment she graduated and left the idol group, she would lose her identity as an idol and return to being just a normal person. But Mika Furutsuki couldn’t stand going back to how she was before. She was well beyond that. She wanted to continue shining as an idol for ever and ever.
Her mother told her to prioritize her studies, but if she had time to study, she poured that into rehearsing for auditions. She wrote ‘IDOL’ in big letters on the survey asking her plans for the future. Her teacher warned her that she’d come to regret this, and her mother grew convinced she’d failed her as a parent. Whenever someone tried to warn her, she just responded, “Mika will be everyone’s idol! No proble-mika!” in her cutest voice.
The only one who stepped up to help her was Maori Niizono. She constantly told her, “You’ll be the best idol in the universe, Mika-chan. You’re cuter than anyone else I’ve ever met.” This helped keep her confidence up. These words gave her a buzz. If Maori Niizono had not been there for her, she’d have grown dejected, and maybe even given up on being an idol. But no matter how many auditions she failed, no matter how much her mother told her to give up, all she had to do was hear Maori Niizono’s words to be convinced once again of how brightly she was shining, which filled her with the desire to take the next step.
And after countless failures, she finally passed an audition. At last she caught sight of that glimmer of hope. But there was one problem. The talent office she’d be working for was in Tokyo, but Maori Niizono was going to med school in Kyoto, so they’d be forced to separate. They gave each other goodbye hugs, promised to meet again soon, and parted from one another. Mika Furutsuki swore that the next time they met, she’d be a top-selling idol.
Once she joined the office, the first thing they did was collect lesson fees. For the first six months, the monthly lesson fees would leave her racking up debt, but her manager promised that the work would start rolling in after that. Her heart dancing at the prospect of this glorious future, Mika Furutsuki took him at his word, and threw herself into her lessons.
But what awaited Mika Furutsuki at the end of her hard work was a cruel and heartless reality.
When those six months were up, Mika Furutsuki was told the office had gone bankrupt. The office had been on a tightrope for a while, ready to fall off at any moment, so they’d gathered up a bunch of idol wannabes who’d yet to get a contract with a proper agency, milked them dry, and took off with the cash.
All that remained were the debts from the lesson fees, and her shattered psyche. She had almost nothing to show for the last six months and was unable to change offices or even go freelance. Everything she’d carefully built up had come tumbling down. All she could do was start over, going from audition to audition. And she had to work part-time to cover her living expenses all the while.
The worst part of it was the isolation. She’d come to Tokyo by herself, so she had no friends around her, or anyone to practice with. Rehearsing for auditions was no longer fun, her smile no longer natural. If she consciously tried to smile, her face just twisted out of shape. Staring at her twisted face in the mirror, she felt bitterly sad. Her stomach started to hurt. There was no way she could pass an audition like this.
She felt tempted to ask Maori Niizono for help. But she didn’t act on that temptation. They’d been in touch occasionally, but she still hadn’t told Maori Niizono about her office going bankrupt. She’d been too scared to say anything and put it off for so long that she ended up lying to her, saying that she was happily working as an idol. The lies piled up, and were no longer something easily taken back. The real reason she wasn’t able to tell Maori Niizono the truth was because of how depressed she was. She’d been so confident when they parted, she couldn’t bear to let her see her like this, struggling to even smile.
Mika Furutsuki idolized Maori Niizono. She had to become an idol that would live up to that image of her — she had to shine bright enough to live up to that ideal. And this ideal had become an obsession that caused her to indefinitely postpone revealing her reality. But then one day, suddenly, the indefinite became finite.
“Mika-chan!”
She knew that voice. It was Maori Niizono’s voice. She turned around and saw her standing there. “Whaaaat? Maorin!” Maorin was Maori Niizono’s nickname.
“Mika-chan! I heard your talent office went bankrupt! Are you OK?”
Maori Niizono had heard about her predicament through the rumor mill. All the lies that had been piling up came tumbling down.
“Maorin... it’s all true-mika.” The shock was so great that she used her stage voice.
Mika Furutsuki took Maori Niizono to her apartment. Feeling so awkward that she forgot to say she was glad to see her again, unable to keep silent, everything came pouring out together with her tears. She began to explain everything that had happened.
“Why didn’t you tell me?!”
Maori Niizono put her arms around her sobbing friend.
“I was too embarrassed to let you see me like this...”
She let it all out. The shock of the office betraying her, her inability to trust anyone, her feelings of powerlessness and self-hatred, her worsening physical condition, her dwindling savings, her isolation in Tokyo, and the occasional feeling that she was going crazy.
“Don’t worry!” Maori Niizono said forcefully. “I’ll provide for you!”
“What?!” She didn’t know what that meant.
“I mean it! I have money. Loads of it. I can get as much as I want if I just ask my parents. I can use that to provide for you, Mika-chan! You keep right on with your idol activities.”
To Maori Niizono, this was a totally normal proposition. To her, money was not an issue. But Mika Furutsuki felt like the very idea of it was grinding her into the dirt. Perhaps this was a sociological issue; Mika Furutsuki’s family was poor, and as a product of a neoliberal society, this was tantamount to original sin. Accepting any form of charity felt like society branding her as lazy. She unconsciously recoiled from the suggestion.
“Mm? What?” Maori Niizono said, smiling obliviously.
“I appreciate the thought, but...”