“LOOK, SNOOKUMS, look at me! ☆ What do you think? Do I look cute?” Tionishia—Tio for short—cheered as she did a twirl in her lacy new costume. It was a classic idol outfit, easy to move in but flashy onstage, custom made to accommodate her six-and-a-half foot height.
“Y-yeah, it looks good,” Kimihito mumbled.
“Hooray! ☆ Thank you!!” Tio squealed, hopping up and down. For a moment, Kimihito was transfixed. Not only was she tall, but her bust was to scale with her height, and her P-cup breasts bounced with her. The idol outfit had been hastily assembled, so it clung a touch too close to her body and outlined every curve and accentuated every…tiny…motion.
Kimihito flushed red, and he finally managed to pull his eyes from Tio’s breasts. They were in the green room of the Tomas Theater near Tokyo. This was the second test case for liminal employment, this time for the job of “idol.” The three girls—Papi, Mero, and Tio—had already changed into their costumes and were awaiting their big stage debut.
Tio giggled with an excitement which grew with every passing minute. “I can’t believe we’re opening for ANM48! ☆ Wake me up, I’m dreaming!” She was clearly a real idol fan. Though her size was an advantage when taking down bad guys with MON, inside that ogre frame was a real girly girl, someone who loved cute things and cheered everyone on with her sunshine attitude.
Zombina had been unenthusiastic about work to the point of stealing the bar’s liquor, but Tio was so excited that she was already dancing before she even got onstage. Despite their shared work as MON agents, they had completely different personalities.
“Yaaay! Boss, Papi’s an idol!” Papi wore the same costume as Tio, though scaled way down. It was hard for Kimihito to believe that they were really the same outfits—they looked totally different on such contrasting body types.
“Papi, don’t forget to smile! ☆ Smiles are the most important tool of the idol trade!” Tio said.
“Got it!” Papi yelled and showed her biggest smile.
Tio and Kimihito both grinned in reply. These two might not be real idols, but their smiles are way brighter than ANM48’s.
“Super cute!” Tio affirmed.
“Yaaay! Boss, Papi’s super cute! Pap pap papeee!” She turned her name into a song and spun around in circles. As she whirled and kicked her legs, the miniskirt of the costume flapped up, and Kimihito almost had a heart attack before he noticed the shorts peeking out from under the hem.
Harpies had wings instead of hands, and their legs looked like birds’ legs with long talons instead of toes. Since it was almost impossible for her to fit sleeves over her wings, she usually didn’t wear them—luckily, the idol outfit was designed sleeveless just for her.
Something important occurred to Kimihito as he watched her spin. “Hey, wait…is this really okay? They’re total amateurs. Can they really put on a performance and open for a pro idol group?”
“Don’t worry about it,” someone replied from behind. Kimihito turned to see a middle-aged man with a monocle, who seemed to appear out of nowhere—the managing director of the Tomas Theater and a man with a truly calming aura. “At our theater we’re just happy to see liminals happy. Liminal comfort is our top priority here—our liminal friends are often forced to live with inconveniences, so we built out facilities to cater especially to their needs. That’s why ANM48 and their associated groups perform here so often. If we can improve prospects for liminal employment, it will be a real feather in our cap.”
Kimihito was surprised by the manager’s enthusiasm for liminal rights—though hadn’t he heard something like this before? “Er, excuse me, sir—”
“Yes?”
“Are you at all affiliated with a bar in the city?”
“Oh, Bar Zetto N? Yes, the manager and I are friends, and I drink there sometimes. Is anything wrong?”
“No, no, not at all, sorry.” In the end, the liminal world was rather small. He wondered if the two men talked about their beliefs and had reached the same conclusions through discussion or if they were part of some larger integration movement he wasn’t aware of. Either way, it was clear that their warm hearts and open minds had led them both to participate in the program despite the short notice. They shared that much at least.
“Anyway, there’s no need to worry about their performance. I saw some of Tionishia’s dancing earlier, and it was excellent. She is more than skilled enough for our stage.”
“Huh?” Kimihito looked over at Tio, wondering where she’d learned and how she’d gotten good enough to earn praise from an industry insider.
“Yeah! I’m gonna be just fine, Snookums.” She clasped her hands in front of her chest, eyes sparkling. “See, I’m a super-huge ANM48 fan! ☆ I’ve practiced all their dances, and I can do their full set perfectly. Just watch!” On cue, she started a bouncy routine, keeping time perfectly even though there wasn’t any music.
The managing director produced a phone from his pocket and started to play a pop song. Though Kimihito couldn’t name the tune, he knew it must have been by ANM48.
As the music echoed through the green room, Tio shifted her dance slightly to match her movements to the song. She stepped left and right, sweeping her hands in complex patterns. “Hmm hmm hmm~ ♪” she hummed along. It was a complex, strenuous dance, but she barely broke a sweat—her MON work was probably even more strenuous. She was so strong.
“Annnd…there! ☆” She struck the final pose with a wink.
“Wow—amazing!” Kimihito clapped without intending to. Watching her, he’d forgotten that he wasn’t watching a real idol’s performance, but her massive frame made it uniquely striking to watch. Now he understood why the director said she could be a real idol. “You’ll definitely do fine.”
“Hee hee hee. That’s why Ms. Smith picked me for the job! I asked her especially. Papi and I are gonna do our best!” She looked over at Papi, whose eyes shone in admiration of her partner’s dancing.
“Awesooome! Papi wanna do that, too!” Papi did a sharp turn. It wasn’t as precise as Tio’s, but it was clear she’d had some training.
“Wait, Papi, when did you learn to dance?” Kimihito asked.
“Papi’s been practicing!”
“Y-you have? Even though you forget things so fast?”
Papi was a literal birdbrain. She forgot her schedule so often she was constantly double- or triple-booked to see friends. She claimed to remember important stuff, but what she considered important was impossible for anyone but her to know. It wasn’t even clear if she remembered the rules of the Interspecies Cultural Exchange Accord, even though it governed her life.