Mero waved her hand behind the veil, perfectly poised, perhaps accustomed to this kind of attention from attending events as a princess. She noticed Kimihito watching and gave him his own private wave with a charming, regal smile.
For some reason, it made him feel awkward. He should be used to her smiling at him, but after the director’s introduction, he couldn’t help but see her as a “mysterious songstress” instead of her usual self.
“Mero…so pretty,” Papi murmured.
Kimihito was thinking the exact same thing. She didn’t need to show her face; her presence itself conveyed dignity and status. Considering her personality, he wasn’t surprised that she could project that through the veil.
The song started.
Mero closed her eyes and clasped her hands against her chest. The anticipatory feeling was washed away as the gentle music reached the crowd. The lights began to shimmer and move like rippling waves.
She raised her voice in song. It was a ballad; slow and gentle, but full of passionate feeling. It spoke of unrequited love, brokenhearted despair, and longing. A sea change from the up-tempo pop track Tio and Papi had danced to. Her beautiful voice engulfed the crowd, mesmerizing them like a fairy-tale mermaid captivating sailors.
The blue lights swayed from side to side. Just as the crowd was transfixed by the mysterious songstress M, so too were Papi, Tio, and Kimihito as they waited in the wings.
Mero cast a glance at them. Thank goodness, she thought, I’ve been able to help my beloved. She was used to being overruled by her mother—forced to stand aside and watch as Miia, Centorea, and the others assisted Kimihito in ways she couldn’t. Being part of human society and having the full exchange student experience was important to her, but not nearly as important as supporting Kimihito, who’d gone out of his way to support her, too. Finally getting that chance meant the world to her.
Oh my goodness, I must concentrate! It wouldn’t count as a work experience if she didn’t do the work! She returned her focus to her song.
Just after the soprano section, she hit a snag. Is my voice…breaking? She tilted her head. Perhaps it was too minor for anyone else to notice, but she’d gone off-key for a bar or two. Was her throat sore? She’d been sure to do vocal exercises before the show.
From when she was very young, just a small fry, she’d been tutored in the skills expected of a princess. Vocal lessons had been part of that, including the kind of singing that could entrance the listener. After that extensive training, she could detect even minuscule changes in her voice.
Without pausing the performance, she desperately searched for the cause of her vocal issues. She went through the list of potential causes until she suddenly realized: My gills are…drying out…?
Mero had spent most of her life underwater where, of course, she used her gills to breathe. She could breathe perfectly well on land, too—provided her gills remained moist. Now that they were drying out, she was worried. It hurt a little to breathe. This was why her voice had cracked.
What’s going on? She could usually breathe without any trouble while she did her daily tasks on land. Some dryness wasn’t a problem. On stage, though, she was putting a lot of stress on her voice. Now it wasn’t just the performance at risk—if she kept singing like this, she could do lasting damage.
That wouldn’t do! She couldn’t disrupt her precious performance. She would disappoint Tio and Papi, and ANM48, and the crowd, and the director—and above all, Kimihito, her personal audience of one.
But why was it happening? Why here, why now? Normally her gills would never dry out this fast, even if she was breathing heavily on land. It couldn’t be—
She raised her eyes to the spotlights illuminating her. Of course. Even professional idols could overheat under the intense heat of stage lighting. An inexperienced, aquatic creature like Mero would dry out much faster. The rough, sore skin and crackling gills were getting to her, and fast.
Whatever am I going to do? She looked around desperately for a solution. If she’d thought ahead, she could’ve asked for the stage to be misted, but she hadn’t gotten the go-ahead from her mother until just before the show. There was nothing in sight that could help her.
Despite her predicament, she continued to sing—but soon she would reach the chorus, which included the highest notes in the song. With her gills already so dry, she wouldn’t be able to hit those high notes.
Water, something wet—anything! She checked the wings over again, eyes darting side to side, and—
Kimihito was gone. What?! Her eyes opened wide. Why would he disappear in the middle of my song?
Then it clicked into place. When Papi had completed her little flying escapade, she had crashed into him, hard. He hadn’t seemed hurt at the time, but in the interim he must have noticed an injury and gone for first aid. There was nothing she could do about that, but—
Her expression fell, and tears pricked at her eyes. She’d always been able to depend on Kimihito when things were hard. He might seem lackadaisical, but he was so reliable in a pinch—for some reason she’d assumed this would be the same, that whatever happened, he’d be there to look after her.
How strange. I always said I would be happy to be his mistress, even if he had a wife…but now…
Everyone knew how much she loved tragic love stories, how she dreamed of living one herself, one-sided and doomed. Yet here she was, in trouble, expecting Kimihito to be by her side.
The chorus was close. She lifted her voice an octave and then even higher in a dramatic key change, but as she did, she realized… I can’t do this.
If her singing was going to come out as unseemly cracking and destroy her voice in the process, she would simply refuse to sing. She would stay behind the curtain and declare that the show was over. But just as she made her decision and let her voice trail off, something happened.
It started to rain.
“Wha?!”
“What’s this?!”
The bewildered shouts of the audience came through the curtain. The rain was restricted to the stage, of course, and the curtain kept them from getting wet, but they were still shocked at the sudden indoor storm. Rain wasn’t meant to fall on an indoor stage, after all. Mero herself was stunned for a moment, but as the chords leading up to the final chorus played, she raised her voice to coast on the melody.
There was no cracking or faltering; clear as fresh water she sang through the lines. Thanks to the sudden rain, her gills were damp, and she could breathe freely again. It felt like a blessing from heaven was sparkling down from somewhere in the ceiling.
Of course, what looked like a theater effect was really the fire sprinklers spraying down. The dramatic effect might have looked like part of the show, but it was something much simpler.
As the song came to an end, the sprinklers stopped, and Mero breathed a sigh of relief. But there was a touch of confusion there, too. “What was that?” she wondered aloud as she switched off her microphone.
How had the sprinklers turned on? Where was Kimihito?
“Oh, Beloved,” Mero whispered, putting the pieces together. She laid her hands over her heart. He’d been watching over her the entire time. Her sadness evaporated as pure joy swept through her.