“—So by the way, I’m done being an idol.” Ai Hoshino said the words with her very best smile. It was uncomfortable when the mood got heavy during conversations like this, so she kept her tone as light as she could. She made her announcement as casually as she would have said, I’m on a diet, so I’m cutting out snacks, or I don’t feel like going to school today, so I’m skipping. Getting this over with peacefully and amicably was best. It didn’t work as well as she’d hoped, though. The person she was talking to looked extremely rattled. “Whoa-whoa-whoa, hang on a second!” The man shouting was the president of her entertainment agency, Ichigo Production. His name was, uh…Satou, or Itou, or something like that. Probably. The president stared at Ai, his mouth open so wide that it seemed as if his lower jaw might fall off. “You’re quitting? Did you just say you aren’t going to be an idol anymore? Seriously?” They were in the agency’s meeting room. Technically, that was just what they called the ten-square-meter storeroom that also served as a reception room, a place to store props, and the president’s smoking booth. That was pretty normal at small agencies. Ai had come to the meeting room after her three-hour evening dance lessons, so she was still in her aerobics clothes. She’d sneaked over here alone while the other members were changing. Her reason? To inform the president she was leaving her idol group, B Komachi. “What do they call it, ‘graduating’? It seemed like it was about time.” The president’s eyes were riveted on hers. He was stunned. The look that pierced her through his sunglasses seemed to say What is this idiot talking about? “‘About time’? Kid, you’ve only been an idol for three months. It’s way too early for this.” “There’s no rule that says you’re not allowed to graduate after three months, is there?” “Well, no, but…” The president’s eyebrows drew together. “You’re kidding, right? Come on, tell me you’re pulling my leg.” “No, I’m not joking. I’ve already made up my mind,” Ai said bluntly. The president looked troubled. Most adults made this face when they were dealing with a problem child. It was an expression Ai was used to seeing by now; the staff at the children’s home and her teachers at school had all done the same thing. Those were the eyes of someone looking at a kid who was a handful. The president sighed. “Why, exactly? Ai, you’re B Komachi’s center. You get the most camera time and the biggest parts in every song. What aren’t you happy with?” Behind the president was a whiteboard they used for meetings. A flyer advertising a show they’d performed last week in Shimokitazawa was stuck to it with magnets. It featured a photo of B Komachi, along with pictures of the two other indie idol groups who’d performed there. Ai was in the most prominent position of the B Komachi photo. She had her head tilted to the side and was making a heart with her hands, striking a cutesy pose. That really does make me look a little dumb, she thought, though it was too late to do anything about it now. Granted, since she was quitting, it didn’t even matter anymore. “I’m not particularly unhappy about anything.” Ai shrugged. “Can’t I quit just because I want to?” “No. Obviously,” the president griped. “B Komachi’s finally hitting its stride. People still treat you girls as indie idols, but your shows fill up venues pretty good. Your audience and the staff here are expecting great things from the group. So what do you think would happen if you, the center, suddenly left? All our work will go up in smoke.” Ai let the president’s lecture go in one ear and out the other. She didn’t need anyone to tell her what the group’s current situation was. B Komachi was an idol group made up of newcomers. It was only three months old and currently had seven members, including Ai. All the girls were in their early teens. The other members were middle school models who’d already been affiliated with Ichigo Pro. Ai was the only exception. Until just last year, there had been nothing connecting her to the entertainment industry. …And that was the problem. “The thing is, I didn’t get into B Komachi the way the other girls did, you know?” “Yeah.” The president nodded. “I scouted you myself when you were wandering around town. I saw something in you that shined bright.” He’d sensed talent in her. Ai didn’t hate hearing that. “Right. That’s because I am ridiculously cute. You were absolutely, one hundred percent right about that.” “You’re just one big ball of confidence, aren’t you? Not that that’s a bad thing,” the president said, sounding a little exasperated. “Mm-hmm, sure am,” Ai said with a nod. “And I got picked to be center out of nowhere. You’ve got a good eye, President.” “Gee, thanks.” “But it sort of seems like they’re not happy with that.” “Who?” “The rest of B Komachi.” For some reason, a newcomer with zero experience in the entertainment industry had been selected as the center, just like that. Nothing could have irritated the other founding members more than some amateur waltzing in and stealing the best spot. “Did something happen between you and the others?” the president asked. “Yeah, you could say that,” Ai said, although she didn’t give any details. “I think the group’s atmosphere will improve if I’m not in it.” “Hmm,” the president murmured. “True, they have seemed a little touchy ever since you became center.” “‘A little touchy’? More like super unfriendly.” It had been a month since Ai’s position as center had become permanent, and the harassment from the other members was getting worse. In the dressing room, they were constantly saying nasty things about her and tsking disgustedly in her general direction. They’d also posted unpleasant stuff about her on unofficial B Komachi fan sites, saying things like “Ai is completely oblivious” and “A girl who’s nothing but a pretty face isn’t idol material.” The posts were anonymous, of course, so nobody could take the writers to task for what they’d said. Some of what they wrote was clearly stuff only insiders would know, though, so it was definitely the work of someone in the group. Ai was surprised by the lengths they’d gone to. Her fellow members had also messed with her costumes and props. The ribbons Ai used onstage and her shoes were constantly disappearing, and one time she’d even found her costume balled up in a garbage can the day before a show. That sort of persistent needling had taken its toll. “To me, it just feels like ‘Really? Again?’ This sort of thing happened fairly often at school and the children’s home.” Ai had learned two things during her twelve years on this planet. One was that, in many ways, she wasn’t “normal.” Her looks, how she thought about things, how she’d grown up, the way she lived—all those things differed greatly from other kids her age, to the point that she was used to other people acting as if she creeped them out. The other thing was that “normal” people just couldn’t accept those who weren’t like them. They would attack anyone who strayed from their definition of normalcy, desperately driving them away in order to protect their “normal” world. It was like that fairy tale where ducks had chased a duckling out of the flock just because its feathers were a different color. Maybe it was a basic instinct that all creatures were born with. In other words, Ai stood out no matter what group she was a part of. It had been that way at school, at the children’s home, and in B Komachi. To everybody “normal,” she was a duckling with feathers of the wrong color. There was nothing she could do to avoid that. The only way to improve the situation was to chase that odd duckling away. “So you’re leaving because the members of B Komachi are unfriendly?” Ai nodded. “That’s right. Remember what you told me once, President? That it was okay to say ‘I love you’ even if it was a lie? Because while I was saying it, that lie might turn into the truth.” “I did say that, yeah.” The president nodded. It was something he’d told Ai when he scouted her. Maybe she’d never loved anyone, and maybe she’d never been loved, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t scream and shout about love. Ai had been curious about whether she could really do a thing like that, which was why she’d taken him up on his invitation. It was still a fresh memory for her. “But look, the exact opposite happened.” “How so?” “The harder I try, the more annoyed the other B Komachi members seem to get. It’s like, instead of loving everybody, I’m spreading hatred. I just don’t think it should be like this.” Some of the members of B Komachi harassed Ai every single day. Even if she was used to it, it wasn’t a good feeling having people act so openly hostile toward her. When they posted spiteful things about her online, she lost any motivation she had been holding onto. When her belongings got destroyed, she couldn’t help but sigh more often. It’s important to smile when you’re an idol, but under the circumstances, it was only natural that Ai found it impossible to smile. When she had to fake it for the camera, she just felt ridiculous. Why did I even become an idol in the first place? she’d wonder. “Well, I get what you’re trying to say, but…” The president looked troubled. Picking up a half-smoked cigarette from the rim of the ashtray, he took a drag on it, then exhaled a puff of smoke. “It’s too soon to give up yet. Maybe you’re working hard and not getting the results you want, but that’s a pretty common thing in life.” “You just say that because you’re the type of guy who never has anything work out, President…” The man had a violent coughing fit when Ai made that remark. Apparently, that lungful of smoke had come back up the wrong way. “H-hang on a minute. Don’t you think that was a pretty nasty way to put it?” “Well, your life really doesn’t look like it’s going too well.” “Kid, what the heck are you—?” “You’re drowning in debt, and this agency doesn’t seem to be doing so great either… On top of that, you were trying to drown your troubles at a hostess club and started really bothering one of the girls, and they banned you, didn’t they?” “I mean, yeah, but! You’re not wrong… Still! Who told you about that anyway?!” “Miyako.” Miyako was a staff member with Ichigo Pro. She was a pretty, refined woman with an incredible figure who’d apparently once worked as a race queen and promotional model. Even though Ai wasn’t particularly close with her, Miyako was one of the few people at the agency she could have a proper conversation with. Ai gazed steadily into the president’s sunglasses. “Listen, President, I’m sure you’re going through a lot right now, but cheer up, okay?” “Hey, quit it! Don’t give me that pitying look! You’re gonna make me sad for real!” The president clutched his head and let out a sigh. “I swear… You just completely ignore everyone around you and say whatever you want. You’re really something, you know that?” “I am? Thanks,” Ai said with a smile. The president grimaced. “That wasn’t a compliment! …I’m starting to see why the other members are so hard on you. I don’t hate this side of you…but I bet some people just can’t stand it.” “You think so?” Ai was only being honest about her thoughts and feelings. She wasn’t trying to get people to either like her or hate her. “Hmm. If I’m ruining the mood, I really do think it’d be better if I wasn’t here.” “Nah, I’m not saying it’s all your fault. The ones who are jealous are a big part of the problem.” The president stubbed his spent butt in the ashtray, then wearily took a fresh cigarette out of his jacket pocket and lit it. “Well, it’s like that everywhere in this industry, though.” “What do you mean?” “I mean it’s a hurricane of envy and harassment. It’s the same everywhere—from little agencies like ours to the heavyweights that appear in the annual New Year’s music special. The nature of idols doesn’t change.” “Their ‘nature’?” “They get annoyed when someone else stands out more than them, and they end up wanting to drag that girl down. You know how it goes. The nail that sticks up gets hammered down. Groups may claim that all their members get along great, but you’ll never find a group actually like that. That’s because idols have a constant hunger for approval,” the president muttered. This was something Ai had come to understand well over the past few months: Idols were nowhere near as glamorous as they appeared to be. The president looked conflicted. “It even happens in major groups sometimes. When a member at the height of her popularity suddenly announces she’s retiring, if you look at what actually happened, there was usually some seriously horrific bullying going on. It’s real common in this industry.” “Oh yeah, those sorts of stories get kicked around in weekly gossip magazines for ages afterward.” The president ground out his cigarette in the ashtray, a rather cold expression on his face. “In the shadow of every successful idol are hundreds, sometimes thousands, of losers. That’s the sort of world this is. Everyone’s desperate to survive. Kids are exposed to harsh competition, their hearts get worn down, and as a result, some of them do whatever it takes to sabotage others. Even you must know how that feels.” “Hmm.” Ai cocked her head. As far as she was concerned, singing onstage was only a job. Making audiences happy and having people say she was cute were just facets of it. As a result, she didn’t particularly care who B Komachi’s center was or who was the most popular. “If one of the other girls was more popular than me, I don’t think I’d want to drag her down.” The president’s eyes widened. “Oh yeah?” he asked, sounding mystified. “Why not?” “Because when it comes down to it, being popular with fans is just based on other people’s opinions. I don’t think that sort of thing matters.” “What do you mean, you don’t think it matters?” “Even if other people praise you or put you down, you’re still you, right? Whether your position onstage is center or way off on the edge, it doesn’t change what you’re supposed to do as an idol.” “Ah…” The president looked troubled. “I see. So it’s like that, huh? That’s a problem.” “What is?” “How invested you are in this compared to the others. You really are different, for better and for worse.” Different. Ai was used to hearing that. In the end, that was probably the cause of all this. She wasn’t “normal.” She was oblivious to the people around her. That was why she couldn’t understand them. She didn’t get what “normal” was for idols…or for humans in general. “It’s like, after going through all sorts of things in my head, I kind of think, ‘Actually, maybe I’m not cut out for being an idol.’” “I’m telling you, that’s not true,” the president said, shaking his head. “Listen. Ai. Would you rethink this? Please?” He put his hands together in front of his face and bowed his head low, as if he were praying. “The group’s just finished a new song. The next show’s already scheduled. You’re the center, so if you drop out now, both B Komachi and I are finished.” “Mm. I kind of doubt that.” Ai tilted her head. “If I left, couldn’t you just make one of the other members the center or find a new girl?” The world was lousy with idols. Many of them had to be better singers and dancers than Ai was, and they’d probably be better at getting along with other people, too. The president wouldn’t have trouble finding a replacement. “No matter who it was, I doubt things would get any worse than they are now.” “That’s not…,” the president started, but he quickly fell silent. Somewhere in his heart, he may also have been thinking that B Komachi’s atmosphere might improve if they changed the center. He was probably right to think that way. Any sane person would. Ai gave him a bright, encouraging smile. “You want B Komachi to do well, don’t you?” “Of course I do. Just how much do you think I’ve invested in training you kids?” “Then there’s no need to hesitate, is there?” “Yeesh.” The president scratched the back of his head. Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes again, but it was empty. He squeezed it in his fist, crushing it out of irritation, then abruptly asked, “What are you going to do, then?” Ai’s eyes widened. “Huh? Me? What?” “I’m asking what you’re going to do once you quit being an idol. Are you saying you’ll go back to being a normal girl?” A “normal girl,” Ai mused. If I really was normal, I probably wouldn’t have considered quitting in the first place. That’s kind of ironic. “I don’t think not being an idol is going to change much. It’s not like I’m a celebrity or something.” B Komachi was still only an indie idol group. They were affiliated with an agency, but other than that, they weren’t really any different from ordinary people. The number of people who came to see their shows had grown some, but it wasn’t as if they were making TV appearances, and their CDs weren’t on the Oricon charts. They had an internet radio program, and that was about it. If an idol from a minor indie group graduated, the world would barely even notice. It would be one thing if a nationally popular idol left the industry, but Ai was just one of the hundreds of idols in this country who didn’t sell. She’d disappear quietly, without anyone knowing. Nobody would even discuss it online. Ai folded her arms. “But let’s see… Once I leave the agency, I might take going to school a bit more seriously. With my brain, I doubt I’ll be able to make it to high school…so it might be nice to just enjoy student life while I’m in middle school.” “I see.” The president nodded solemnly, then fixed his gaze on Ai’s. “So your mind’s made up?” “Yep.” “I guess that’s that, then.” He heaved a deep sigh. “Go make the most of student life or whatever else you want to do.” “You mean you’re letting me quit?” “No matter what I say, it’s not like you’d listen anyway.” “Oh wow, President, you totally get me.” The man grimaced. “Not because I want to.” Ai had only known this man for half a year or so, but apparently he’d gotten a good handle on her personality. Even though she’d never managed to remember his name. “Okay, well, that’s how it is, then.” Ai started to get up, but just as she did, the president let out a gasp as if he’d just remembered something. “Ah! No, hang on a sec.” “Huh?” “Before you quit, I have one more job for you.” “A job?” Ai looked puzzled. What was this about? “Come hang out with me for a bit this Sunday. There’s one last thing I want you to do.” Rows of skyscrapers stretched as far as the eye could see, and store windows glittered in the summer sunlight. It was a weekend afternoon, and Ginza was crowded. As soon as the signal changed, a huge mass of people began to stream past Ai. It reminded her of a school of fish swimming through a tropical ocean that she’d seen on TV long ago. Lots of little fish had grouped together to stand up to a big fish. Apparently, it was a type of defensive mechanism. So both fish and people group together on instinct, huh? As Ai was pondering over that, the president glanced over at her. “What’s the matter? You look sort of glum. Was Italian food not your thing?” “No, it’s not that,” Ai told him as they crossed the crosswalk. It had been five days since she’d told the president she was quitting. Ai had kept going to her usual singing lessons and participating in online Polaroid photo ops out of habit, and before she knew it, it was Sunday. The president had brought her downtown for her final job. Instead of taking her straight there, though, he’d treated her to lunch first. They’d gone to a family-style Italian restaurant right next to Ginza Station—one of a chain of restaurants with locations all over the country. It was casual and easy on the wallet, the sort of place where students could just pay a small fee for free refills and hang out for hours. “Oh, I know.” The president frowned. “Were you unhappy with the three-hundred-yen doria? When entertainment agency presidents take people out to eat, they don’t normally pick family restaurants, do they?” “No, that’s not it at all. I like doria. Besides, I know you and the agency are poor.” “Boy, you sure don’t pull any punches. You’re not wrong, though,” he said with an awkward laugh. The president was dressed plainly in a white business shirt and navy-blue slacks and wore a no-name-brand watch. His beloved sunglasses were apparently a foreign import, but everything else he had was simple and cheap. He was the last person anyone would think of if they were asked to picture someone in the entertainment industry or the president of an agency. As he himself had said, it all just went to show how financially troubled he was. Shoulders slumping, the president sighed and shook his head. “Personally, I’d rather feed you sushi or eel. I’d order some stupid-expensive shochu… But listen, the world’s tough on underdogs.” “Well, if B Komachi’s popularity keeps growing, you’ll end up filthy rich, won’t you? I bet you’ll be able to guzzle down shochu like it was juice.” “I hope you’re right about that.” The president shot Ai a cold, resentful look. “The thing is, B Komachi’s top moneymaker said she’s pulling out, so my life plan’s got some ugly storm clouds hanging over it.” Ai suspected they’d wind up rehashing that tiresome conversation if she let the president talk about being poor any longer, so she smoothly changed the subject. “So, President, what’s this job? There’s more to it than eating lunch, right?” “Right. The main thing’s coming up next.” The president threaded his way through the crowd, walking past the enormous Nishiginza department store toward a street of small boutiques. How far was he planning to go? Ai could see a heat haze shimmering over the asphalt just down the street. There wasn’t much greenery in town, so summers in central Tokyo were stupidly hot. She didn’t want to walk for very long if she could help it. Ai fanned herself with her hand. “How far are we going?” “Not far. Just tough it out a little longer.” “Okaaay,” Ai said meekly. She owed the president for taking care of her all this time. This was her last job, so she could put up with some discomfort. As they walked down a wide Ginza street, Ai could feel passersby stealing glances at her. She heard people murmur things like “That girl was insanely cute” and “I wonder if she’s in show business.” “It sure is a waste,” the president said abruptly. “Huh? What is?” “Well, you. You’re able to grab all this attention just by walking down the street. It seems like a shame to let you quit being an idol.” “That’s ’cause I’m cute,” Ai said offhandedly. The president gave an irritated tsk. “You got that right. It’s because you’re cute that this is so frustrating.” “Those people didn’t seem to know anything about B Komachi, though. In the end, am I just not that popular?” From what she heard, top-class entertainers had to wear disguises even if they were just stepping out for a bit. That was particularly true now that the internet was everywhere. Someone could whip out their phone, take a snapshot of an entertainer’s private life, and share it with countless people in the blink of an eye. Members of indie idol groups like B Komachi didn’t need to worry about things like that, though. There weren’t too many people who wanted to know about their private lives in the first place, and if the demand wasn’t there, no one would put it on the internet. Compared to big shots in the entertainment industry, their world was pretty tranquil. All of this meant that Ai’s agency hadn’t made her wear a disguise, so she was able to just walk around town like normal. It was nice not to have to bother with things like that. The president snorted. “Nah. It’s because you’re still just indie. Of course you’re not well-known. You’ve got a lot of people cheering you on, though.” “That’s true. When I look online, the response seems pretty decent.” Even Ai looked herself up to see what people were saying about her. Fan opinion dictated her worth as an idol, so in a manner of speaking, keeping tabs on it was part of the job. “That said,” she continued, “it’s only ever been decent. My name’s never been trending, and neither has B Komachi’s.” “Sure, in terms of numbers, you don’t have the type of fan base a top-class idol would. But there’s definitely a core group that likes you from the bottom of their hearts.” “They like me ‘from the bottom of their hearts’? What do you mean?” “You know, the fan letters. You get quite a few of them whenever you do a show, right?” Where was he going with this? The president seemed to realize that it wasn’t clicking for Ai, so he went on. “It’s easy to say ‘I like her’ online, but fan letters are different. People who take time out of their day to write letters and send them in are pretty hardcore fans.” “Oh, right. That makes sense.” “There are always a lot addressed to you. I see quite a few repeat senders’ names, too, which means you’ve got a rock-solid fan base.” “Huh. How about that.” “What do you mean ‘How about that’? This isn’t news, right? I hand you those letters after every show.” “Oh… Yeah. I guess you do.” Ai had completely forgotten about her fan letters until the president brought them up. She shoved them all into her locker at the agency with other miscellaneous papers. The president fixed his gaze on Ai, a somewhat appalled expression on his face. “What, you haven’t read them? You seriously don’t care about this stuff, do you?” “I just don’t really like reading letters.” “Why not?” “Mm. I dunno.” She gave a little shrug, ducking the question. There actually was a reason Ai wasn’t great with letters. It had happened when she was very young, just after she’d been separated from her mother and put in the children’s home. Back then, Ai had been eagerly looking forward to hearing from her mom. The woman might have been frequently violent toward her, but she was still her mother. Her flesh and blood. Even if something kept her from coming to get Ai, she was sure to send news of some sort. That thought kept the young girl staring at the mailbox all day long. In the end, however, the only letter Ai got was from a lawyer who claimed to represent her mother. It arrived during her first winter at the children’s home, and it said that Ai’s mother had disappeared after the police released her and no one knew where she’d gone. Mom abandoned me… Ai had learned this cruel truth in a letter. Her mother had probably always hated her. There was no place in her life for a daughter who wasn’t “normal” and couldn’t pick up on social cues. Ai had stopped staring at the mailbox after that. She’d started to hate the very sight of letters and came to feel like opening one would inevitably reveal bad news. “Well, it’s not that big a deal.” Maybe the president had noticed something in Ai’s face, because it seemed like he had no intention of continuing the fan letter conversation. He wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand and looked around. “I’m getting thirsty. I’ll grab you something from the vending machine. How about an oolong tea?” “Oh, sure. Thanks,” Ai said, giving him a bright smile. The president’s actually pretty good at reading people’s moods, she thought, genuinely impressed. The complete opposite of me… “Here we are.” After walking through Ginza for a little while, the president had stopped in front of an enormous seven-story building. All four of its sides were made of glass, and each floor seemed to be occupied by a variety of luxury fashion stores. The floor guide beside the entrance listed the names of brands like Louis Vuitton, Gucci, Prada… Apparently, the building was a large, open complex of boutiques. “This is the job site?” Ai asked. “Yeah, something like that.” Ai was perplexed, but the president just pulled open one of the glass doors and walked right in. He moved confidently, as if he was familiar with the place. Ai followed him inside. The chilly air-conditioned space was like an oasis in the desert. She gave a sigh of relief, feeling refreshed. The interior was incredibly chic. The walls and floor were all done in black and white, and such meticulous thought had been put into the decoration that each shop felt more like an aesthetic lounge than an apparel boutique. The garments that hung on the wavy, arched racks struck an exquisite balance between eccentricity and style, asserting themselves as the cutting edge of fashion. Ai bought most of her clothes at stores that focused on affordability, so these boutiques were a whole new world for her. What exactly did they want her to do in a place like this? She had no idea; for now, all Ai could do was follow along. The two of them rode the escalator to an upper floor, where the president took Ai to a shop that sold fashion for teenage girls. These clothes were clearly out of the ordinary as well. Both the designs and the prices were startling. “Um,” Ai said, tilting her head. “Is this a modeling job?” “Nope. Heck, modeling gigs for brands like these wouldn’t go to idols from an indie group like B Komachi.” “I guess not, huh?” Fashion models had to be people who consumers aspired to be. They needed to create the urge to buy clothes by making them say “I want to wear what she’s wearing.” Looking at it that way, being fashion models was too much responsibility for an indie idol group that was only a few months old. To do something like that, they’d have to be famous enough to have at least two or three regular spots on TV—or so she’d been told at the agency. “That said,” the president went on, “if you keep selling like this, I bet we’ll be able to market you as models before too long. Especially you, Ai. With your looks—” “Oh, you don’t have to go into all that. I’m retiring.” “Yeesh. Could you be any colder?” The president frowned, as if disappointed. Making that face at me isn’t going to help, Ai thought. She had no intention of changing her mind. “Anyway, President, why did you bring me here?” “Well, to shop, obviously.” “To shop? Are you going to buy something?” “That’s right,” the president said with a nod. What is even happening? “But this shop is for girls. I don’t think they’ll have anything for an old man like you who’s got one foot firmly planted in ‘middle-aged.’” “Okay, rude. I’m still closer to being a young guy than an old man.” Saying that automatically makes you an old man, Ai thought, but she decided not to point it out. “Oh, don’t tell me… Is this a present for your girlfriend? You sure like them young, President.” He must have been dating someone younger and needed a girl’s perspective to pick out a gift. That would make sense why he’d brought Ai along. “Well, outsiders may not have the right to comment, but listen: Be careful when you mess around with minors, President. These days, they’ll lock you up for real.” “Kid, what are you talking about? We’re buying clothes for you.” “Huh?” Ai couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. “For me? What do you mean?” Ignoring her bewilderment, the president called out to a nearby sales associate. “Pick out a full outfit for this girl, would you?” “Of course,” the saleswoman responded cheerfully. She had streaked hair with underlights and was wearing a knit dress in shocking pink. Even the staff here were stylish. When the woman looked Ai in the face, her eyes widened. “Wow. You’re such a cutie, aren’t you? Out shopping with your daddy?” “Um, more like…” She glanced at the president. He nodded, looking nonchalant. “I’m her father.” He probably hadn’t wanted to bother trying to explain the situation. “Something like that,” Ai said, going along with it. She tugged on the president’s sleeve and whispered, “…So why are we buying me clothes? This is the job?” “Yeah, that’s right. It’s been bugging me for a while.” “What has?” “Whenever you wear your own clothes, you look like you’re from the boonies. At least when you’re walking around town, I want you to wear something a little better.” “Something ‘better’?” Ai started to argue, but then she saw something out of the corner of her eye that shut her up. She’d caught her incredibly drab reflection in the mirror on the dressing room door. She was wearing a plain T-shirt underneath a light summer hoodie she’d bought in the bargain bin of a neighborhood clothes store for 1,980 yen. Her jeans were pretty old, too, with holes in the knees. They weren’t due to intentional distressing, though, simply wear and tear. The president had a point. Nobody would have said she looked stylish, and if someone called her a country bumpkin, she couldn’t really blame them. It had never bothered Ai much, but there probably weren’t too many girls who walked around downtown Tokyo dressed like she was. “See?” The president smiled at her. “You’re a teenage girl before you’re an idol. It’s fine to be a little more fashion-conscious. Take your time picking something out.” And with that, he left the girls’ clothing department, probably heading outside for a smoke. The saleswoman smiled at Ai. “Your daddy seems like a nice guy.” “Huh…” was the only response Ai could come up with. Had that been “nice”? The president was probably trying to bribe her with presents. Was he buying her expensive gifts to make it harder for her to leave the agency? He can try, but it’s pointless, Ai thought. Her desire to quit hadn’t wavered in the slightest. Oblivious to what was going through Ai’s mind, the woman continued her cheerful sales talk. “Let’s see… A more girly style might suit your slim, petite build. Would you like to try a frilly blouse? Oh, but going all the way to the opposite end of the spectrum and trying some streetwear would also look really cool. Oversized clothes would make a great contrast with your build.” Frankly, Ai would have liked to say she wasn’t particularly interested in either, but if this was a job, she didn’t really have a choice. She’d just go along with whatever the woman said, then head home as soon as possible. “I’ll go with whatever you recommend,” Ai said, smiling at her. If there was one thing she was good at, it was faking a smile. For close to an hour after that, Ai was held captive in a dressing room. The woman made her try on all sorts of clothes, one after another after another. Blouses and overalls. Camisoles and flared skirts. Polished, mature styles and flirty, feminine fashion. Office wear and comfy casual—everything she could get her hands on. Ai felt as if she’d tried on every piece of clothing on this floor of the building. In fact, she thought the woman might be bringing her clothing from other floors, too. It was that intense. According to the sales associate, she was so cute it made her want to dress Ai up in all sorts of outfits. While she was glad the woman was having fun, Ai wasn’t a fan of it at all. She thought this must be what it felt like to be a dress-up doll. “We’ve tried everything, but this dress really is the best one.” In the end, they settled on a cute white dress with polka dots. A big ribbon held together the open back, and the design was rather fancy. It wouldn’t have looked out of place at a B Komachi event. Come to think of it, I’ve never worn clothes this cute just to go out, Ai thought. The saleswoman kept nodding in satisfaction, seemingly confident in her choice. “That looks amazing on you. You could be an idol.” “An idol, huh…?” Hearing that made Ai feel weirdly conflicted. She gave the woman a polite smile and said, “Thank you very much,” then left the dressing room. Now that she thought about it, the president wasn’t back yet. How should she pay for these clothes? As Ai was looking around, she suddenly spotted a couple of familiar faces. “Hey, it’s Ai.” “That’s unusual. Fancy meeting you here.” Two girls Ai’s age were coming down the escalator. They were both B Komachi members. One girl had long brown hair and almond-shaped eyes, while the other had a round face and bobbed hair. Their names were… She couldn’t remember. The two of them must have come here to shop together. It was a crazy coincidence, though not one Ai was happy about. She didn’t really want to see either of them. Ai let out an “Um…,” unsure of how to respond, but the girl with the almond eyes beat her to it. “We saw President Saitou up in the smoking area a minute ago. What, did you two come here together?” Ah. So these two smelled faintly like cigarette smoke because they were on their way back from the smoking area? That was a pretty daring place for idols to frequent. Ai nodded. “Uh-huh.” The round-faced girl narrowed her eyes. “Oh? Going places together on a Sunday… That sounds kinda suspicious, doesn’t it?” “Is this a date? What, are you flirting with the president?” Almond Eyes scowled openly. Here we go again. Ai sighed quietly. Ever since she’d been chosen as B Komachi’s center, this sort of thing happened all the time. These girls picked fights with her at every opportunity. Ai answered as calmly as possible, taking care not to let her irritation show on her face. “No. It’s for work.” “But your plan is to have him buy you that outfit, right?” Ai was still wearing the dress she’d been trying on, and Round Face gave it a long, hard look. “Must be nice. That’s expensive, isn’t it?” “Maybe. I don’t really know,” Ai replied. Round Face smirked. “You’re real good at getting people to give you things, aren’t you, Ai? It’s not just the center position; you even get presents like that.” “Sleeping your way to success, huh? That’s so messed up. Seriously, gross.” Almond Eyes snickered. Their words were filled with a desire to drag Ai down however they could, each one a blade hurled with pure malice. They both really hated her. “Like, normally, it’s unthinkable for some total nobody to take the center spot. Clearly you must be doing some real nasty stuff behind the scenes.” “Kyun-pan and Nino were also saying how much they hate you and that the ones who actually put in the work think girls like you should be fired.” “Total nobody.” “They hate you.” “You should be fired.” Words like that didn’t hurt Ai much anymore. After all, she wasn’t “normal.” That was why she couldn’t love anybody and why nobody loved her. Even her own mother had abandoned her. Even her groupmates hated her. As far as the world was concerned, Ai Hoshino was an irredeemable nuisance. It was just as she’d thought: She shouldn’t have become an idol. She believed that from the bottom of her heart. Almond Eyes gave Ai a fierce glare. “Listen, you. You do realize you’re causing trouble for everybody, right? And that you’re the reason why the mood in B Komachi is so rotten.” “Yeah,” Round Face chimed in. “You think the rest of us are just your accessories, don’t you? You’re a terrible person.” “I’ve…never thought of you like that,” Ai said. She meant it. B Komachi was an idol group. None of their songs or dances would work unless all seven of them were there. But it didn’t look like the two girls were going to just accept what she said. “Ha-ha! So you mean we’re not even on your radar?” “You’re actually the worst! Even an apology wouldn’t be enough to satisfy anybody at this point.” “Oh, hey, then let’s have her apologize at the next show. She’ll get down on her knees in front of us and the fans and say, ‘Please forgive me and my big fat, swollen head.’” “Ah-ha-ha-ha! That’s hilarious! Why don’t we make that her graduation show? We’ll send her off with a smile.” They squealed and giggled, clearly enjoying themselves. Their smiles were so full of joy. These had to be their genuine selves. Ai thought the expressions they wore now, while they were heaping abuse on her, looked happier than the ones they wore onstage. Meanwhile, as she gazed at those warped smiles, she felt her heart getting colder and colder. These girls wanted to be happy as idols, and Ai would be in their way no matter what she did. She would have liked to get along with them if possible. As an idol, she’d always wanted to shout out “I love you” to their fans with the rest of her group—but that was probably never going to happen. If she quit, it would solve everything. That was an undeniable fact. Actually, that might be true outside of work as well. Maybe everyone would be happier if she disappeared from the world. After all, no matter where she went, nobody wanted her. As Ai was thinking these things… “Huh?” A large drop of water seeped out of the corner of her eye. That single warm bead trickled down her cheek and fell to the floor at her feet. Was it…a tear? She hadn’t thought the girls’ words had hurt at all, but for some reason, the tears just kept coming. It hurt and made her sad to be disliked, but she should have been used to it. Where were these tears coming from? Ai didn’t really understand what she was feeling. Almond Eyes snorted. “Oh, come on. What’s with this girl? She’s crying.” “Does she think we’ll forgive her if she cries? You really want to make us look like the bad guys, huh? I swear, you make me sick.” “She probably thinks somebody will come rescue her if she cries. You’re always looking down on other people, so just—” Almond Eyes had started closing in on Ai, when… “Hey, you two! Enough!” a stern voice called from the escalator. “That’s no way to talk to a member of your own group!” Almond Eyes and Round Face both flinched, then tensed up. The president was striding toward them, shoulders squared. He must have heard what they were saying. Unusually, he was scowling. “You’re idols! You’ll make your fans sad if you fight like that in public!” The pair recoiled at the president’s anger. Ai’s eyes widened, too; she’d never seen him shout like that before. They didn’t like being lectured without getting a chance to explain their side of it, though. Almond Eyes belligerently stared back at the president. “…I seriously doubt the fans will ever find out. It’s not like we’re constantly being followed around by the media.” “Yeah,” Round Face chimed in. “And besides, it’s a fact that Ai’s a little cheater. She’s a sneak who got to be the center by sucking up to you.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” the president snapped. “I made Ai the center because she’s got the most talent as an idol. After shows, it’s her name that comes up the most on online chat forums.” His bluntness made both girls scowl. “Um, you say she’s got the most talent, but you just mean she’s got a pretty face,” Almond Eyes said. “You’re playing favorites because of her looks, President.” “Boy, it must be nice to be cute. You don’t have to do anything, and you still stand out.” Round Face gave Ai a hostile glare. It was a twisted expression that reflected her jealousy and inferiority complex—the furthest thing from “cute.” Still, there was nothing Ai could do. Apologizing would only make the other girls feel even more entitled. The president sighed. “Listen… You say Ai doesn’t do anything? You two are up there onstage with her, but I guess you haven’t been paying attention.” Almond Eyes and Round Face both frowned. “Huh?” The president glanced at Ai, then continued. “Before every show, she checks out the entire venue and makes suggestions to management. She’s so picky about stuff like camera angles and light levels that it’s basically nagging. After that, she often tinkers with the props and costumes herself. She even checks to see how the other members are doing that day and makes small adjustments to the choreography. In short,” he said, driving his point home, “Ai does everything she can to make your group look cute.” Almond Eyes and Round Face looked taken aback. Ai was startled, too. He’d been watching their shows more carefully than she’d thought. Ai had assumed the president’s job was just to secure a stage for their shows, negotiate with the groups that were appearing with them, and handle the agency’s relationship with other businesses. Anything to do with the performance was generally left to the staff who ran the venue. Honestly, until just now, even Ai had assumed he wasn’t interested in minor details like that. Yet the president had been watching her, and she hadn’t even noticed. She couldn’t hide her surprise. “No one else in B Komachi puts in that kind of effort. She’s the perfect choice for center. If you want that position, you two will also need to show that kind of talent.” The girls didn’t seem happy with the president’s blunt declaration. Almond Eyes snorted. “B-but even if she is talented, openly favoring her like that is seriously annoying. I mean, you’re personally buying her presents? Come on.” Round Face agreed. “Yeah. It’s real demoralizing.” The president sighed and pushed his sunglasses up his nose. “That’s not a present. It’s compensation.” “Compensation?” Ai echoed. What was he talking about? “Somebody messed with your regular clothes in the dressing room last week, didn’t they? They got slashed up.” “Oh yeah,” Ai said, remembering. “That did happen…” She’d gone to the dressing room after their dance lessons to find her favorite summer hoodie brutally cut to ribbons. Someone had enthusiastically taken a pair of scissors to it, leaving it in worse condition than even a worn-out rag. In the end, she’d had to wear her practice outfit home that day. That had only been a little worse than the usual harassment, and it wasn’t the first time they’d gone after her personal belongings. The hoodie had been old and sort of dingy anyway, so Ai hadn’t cared all that much. It seemed like the president had a problem with it, though. “If that sort of thing got out, the agency would be blamed for not managing you properly. Of course it warrants an apology.” “Oh, that’s what you mean by compensation.” Ai looked down at the dress the saleswoman had picked out. It seemed pretty expensive as a replacement for a hoodie she’d bought secondhand. This was the definition of throwing a sprat to catch a whale. “The hoodie didn’t matter all that much… You’re overthinking this, President.” “I need to make sure I handle something like that properly. This industry may be littered with lies and fraud, but I think it’s important to show a little sincerity… Don’t you think?” His gaze went to Almond Eyes and Round Face. “Don’t rely on cheating to get you anywhere, you two. If you want the center position, compete for it fair and square as idols.” It was a completely natural argument for the president of an agency to make, and it left the girls with no way to respond. They exchanged awkward looks. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. I can’t deal with this.” “Let’s just go.” With that, the pair hurried off toward the elevators. They’d been spoiling for a fight just a few minutes ago, yet now they didn’t even look at Ai. You know… Ai wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. By acting like that, they practically confessed to being the ones responsible for the hoodie incident. “So they’re great with insults but bad at lying, huh? They’ll probably have a hard time making it as idols,” the president murmured, watching the girls leave. “Sorry. I’ll make sure they take responsibility later.” “Mm. Well, it doesn’t really matter.” Ai looked up at the president. He frowned. “What?” “Nothing. I think I was just a little startled.” “Startled? By what?” “You pay more attention than I thought you did. I figured you for the type of guy who doesn’t really care if his idols fight amongst themselves.” “Of course I care.” The president grimaced. “Seriously, kid, what do I look like to you anyway?” “A sketchy playboy.” “Wow, you didn’t waste any time telling me how you really feel! Thank you very much for that!” The president snorted. “Well, you know. Both you and B Komachi are important to me.” “We are your source of income, after all.” Although Ai did think it might be a little spiteful of her, once again, she told him what she really thought. In an admirable display of honesty, the president nodded. “Yeah, that’s true. If it weren’t for you kids, I’d have a hard time keeping food on the table. I’m not denying that. But,” he added, “that’s not all.” “What do you mean?” “I’m not sure how to put it.” The president gazed up at the ceiling, scratching his cheek. “Your shows have started pulling in bigger audiences lately. Your songs are all starting to sell a bit. Watching that happen is… Well, it’s sort of like you’ve given me a dream.” “A dream?” Ai hadn’t been expecting anything that romantic. She’d assumed the president was a realist, the type of guy who thought it was fine to do anything as long as it sold. Someone who didn’t care about things like dreams. The president mischievously put a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell anyone else I said this. At first, the group was crap at both singing and dancing, but your sweat and tears are gradually turning you girls into real idols. That sort of thing gets me fired up. It’s genuine drama, the kind you can’t get in manga or movies. Cheering you on as you race toward stardom makes me feel so alive.” “Just cheering us on does? It makes you feel alive?” Ai asked. The president nodded emphatically. “Yeah, it does.” He’d said it so decisively that Ai realized her mouth was hanging open slightly. “I mean, come on. With my help, the legend of B Komachi is coming together. Nothing’s more fun than that. It’s ‘the joy of fandom,’ plain and simple.” “‘The joy of fandom’…? I don’t really understand,” Ai said, tilting her head. “Huh?” The president looked surprised. “Really? You seriously don’t get it at all?” “Mm… When I look at comments online, people sometimes post things like ‘I’m Ai’s biggest fan,’ but to be honest, there’s a lot I don’t get about what makes people want to do that.” Ai had been cheered on by other people, but she’d never cheered anyone on herself. She’d never even wanted to. “You can talk somebody up to other people and cheer them on for all you’re worth, but in the end, I don’t think you get anything out of it… I just don’t know why they’d want to do something like that.” The president crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling. “Ah… I see. So we’re starting from there, huh?” “I mean, maybe I just don’t understand because I’m weird.” “Nah, it’s not that. I wouldn’t say you’re weird. I bet there are a lot of people on the planet who think the way you do. How do I explain it…?” The president put a hand to his chin, thinking. He fell silent, and it was a full five seconds before he spoke again. “Let’s see. The word fan is short for fanatic, you know. Basically, it means you’re so head over heels for whoever it is you’re supporting that you’ll do whatever it takes to recommend them to other people.” “‘Head over heels,’ huh?” “That’s right,” the president said. He looked more serious than Ai had ever seen him. “In this day and age, when the internet is king, recommending things to strangers is surprisingly hard. People cut you down with ‘That’s not my thing’ all the time. If you’re real unlucky, they might treat you like a weirdo and tear you a new one.” Ai knew what the president meant. In a digital society, everyone was constantly connected. Saying anything at all could attract criticism from one person or another, so it took a great deal of courage for anyone to publicly say they liked this or that. The president went on. “Fans get over that fear so they can recommend what they like to other people. It’s an absolute form of love, a feeling that makes you shout ‘I don’t care what anyone else thinks! I’m crazy about this!’ That’s what it means to be a fan.” “Huh…” Ai nodded thoughtfully in response to the president’s extremely enthusiastic explanation. “Being a fan is really that overblown?” “It ain’t overblown at all. When your love for something hits the top of the meter and breaks it, you can sacrifice anything and have no regrets. Calculations about profit and loss don’t mean a thing to you anymore.” “Really?” “Yeah. I’m offering up my life to you kids, and not just because it’s my job. Watching over you is what makes my life worth living. If it’s for you, no matter how much debt I run up, it’s a small price to pay.” Behind his sunglasses, the president’s eyes twinkled as he smiled. “In a sense, I guess you’d also call that a type of love. The joy of fandom is the joy of loving somebody.” “‘The joy of loving somebody’…” It felt like a revelation to Ai. All this time, she’d never thought about how the president felt about B Komachi. “In other words, uh…” The president’s cheeks had gone red. “I’m saying I’m an enormous fan of you girls. Whenever I’ve got a spare moment, I find myself thinking of ways to help B Komachi get even a little more popular.” “You do?” “Yeah.” He nodded, looking a little embarrassed. “Just the other day, I pulled an all-nighter to make this.” He reached into his pocket and took out something that gleamed brightly. It was a palm-sized piece of acrylic that had been turned into what looked like a keychain. When Ai saw it, her eyes widened. “Is that…?” The keychain had a cute caricaturized drawing of a smiling Ai printed on it, as well as a message so jam-packed with love it set her teeth on edge. “‘Ai’s My Fave Forever!!!’…?” When she read the message out loud, it made her crack up. “Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! What the heck?! This is hilarious, President!” “Hey, don’t make fun of it. I put everything I had into that.” “Oh, no, I’m not making fun of it. Your enthusiasm came through loud and clear,” she said, trying to fight back her laughter. The president grimaced. “I dunno if I buy that.” Ai took another good look at the keychain in the president’s hand. The drawing was extremely cute, and anyone could tell at a glance that it was her. Fans would probably be delighted if they handed these out at events. “This must have been a lot of work to make.” “Well, yeah. Still, I had so much fun with it that I forgot about the time.” Apparently, the president had been fairly exacting when he’d commissioned the drawing and had the acrylic processed. It was the first time he’d ever planned merch like this, and he’d struggled and sweated over it for weeks. Something like this wouldn’t have been possible without a deep affection for B Komachi. The care he’d put into it really moved Ai. “This is another expression of my love for B Komachi… Though that’s a pretty embarrassing way to put it.” The president awkwardly shoved the keychain back into his pocket. “The joy of fandom is the joy of loving somebody.” For some strange reason, the president’s words had left a deep impression on Ai. There were people in the world who loved someone or something so enthusiastically that they weren’t afraid of making sacrifices or being told they were wrong. That was how strong an impulse the desire to cheer somebody on was. As things stood, Ai couldn’t even imagine it. “Okay, that makes sense… No wonder I don’t get it.” Ai had never loved anybody, and she’d never been loved. There was no way she could wrap her head around the joy of loving somebody. “I knew it. I’m really not cut out to be an idol. I can’t even begin to understand your feelings or those of the fans.” “Nah, I don’t think that matters.” “Huh?” Ai cocked her head. The president gave a sudden little smile. “Idols don’t need to understand that right from the start. If you don’t get it, then you can learn bit by bit.” “You can…learn?” “You became an idol because you wanted to love somebody, right? Fans cheering a person on is just another form of love. I think that’ll be a good lesson for you.” Learn from her fans? The idea caught Ai by surprise. Fans were just strangers. Customers. People who shelled out money for idols when they sang and danced. Or that was how Ai had always thought of them. It might have been shallow of her to think that way. She was especially aware of that after seeing the keychain the president had poured his love into making. There seemed to be something unfathomable about the power that came from being a fan. The corners of the president’s eyes crinkled behind his sunglasses. “If you’re going to quit anyway, why not hear the fans’ heartfelt voices before you go?” “What do you mean?” “Like I said, the fan letters. Remember?” “Oh!” Ai thought back to all the letters she’d carelessly shoved into her locker. The feelings the fans had directed toward her. Would she find the answer she was searching for among them? Dear Ai, Your shows always cheer me up! The dance you did today was soooo cool! When you got to the chorus, you looked right at me and smiled, and I was completely over the moon! It blew away all my pent-up fatigue from work! I can’t wait to see you again! Ai, I listened to your new song. It was so great with that fast tempo! I feel so energized hearing your voice, so I listen to you every morning on my way to school to psych myself up. I don’t think I could even go to school without it anymore. I’m looking forward to your next new release. P.S. When you were talking about kiritanpo dumplings on the radio the other day, you kept saying “kiriponta” instead, and it was way cute. (LOL) Hello, Ai. I always listen to your live streams. B Komachi’s songs and dialogue really help me unwind. I’ve got a job at a shitty company that works me into the ground for peanuts, and I feel like I want to die on a daily basis, but I think the reason I’m not dead yet is because I look forward to seeing you during your streams every week. I’m not even kidding. You’re the hope that’s keeping me alive, Ai! Ai was sitting in front of her locker at the agency with her fan letters. She read each one carefully and earnestly, as if engraving it into her heart. The next thing she knew, it was evening. The low sun streamed in through the windows, dyeing the walls and floor of the locker room orange. Ai had never read so much at once before, but strangely, she didn’t feel worn out. The energy in those letters was what kept her going. She’d lost track of how many she’d read by now. As Ai opened another envelope, she let out an emotional sigh. “This is seriously amazing.” It was just as the president had said: Every one of the letters conveyed an extraordinary enthusiasm. They were all obviously made with so much care as well, which fascinated Ai. Some were written on cute stationery, while others came enclosed with tiny stuffed animals. Several times, she was startled by long letters that covered ten whole sheets of paper. “Everyone likes me way too much.” If she was being honest, even looking at the letters made her feel uncomfortable. She’d only gone to the trouble of opening and reading them because of what the president had said. Ai wanted to see for herself how much enthusiasm there was behind a fan’s devotion, and her curiosity had won out over her discomfort. She had vividly experienced that enthusiasm for herself now. Her fans’ handwritten letters had stirred her heart more than any online comment ever had. Ai’s chest grew tight with surprise and happiness. Those feelings had blown away all the nasty things her two groupmates had said to her that afternoon. B Komachi’s songs helped me study hard for my exams! I started taking dance lessons because I want to be like you, Ai! Letters like that made her think being a fan sounded like a lot of fun. In fact, the fans might be enjoying life a whole lot more than the idols did. Supporting somebody. Loving somebody. The people who’d written these letters were able to do both of those things in the truest sense of the word, and Ai found herself genuinely jealous. If she kept interacting with people like that, could she become like them someday? Ai kept on reading silently. Three days later, Ai was back in the Ichigo Pro meeting room. “Would you take a look at this for me?” she asked, holding out several sheets of notebook paper. It was something she’d written up after their shopping trip to Ginza the other day. The president skimmed the pages, then frowned. “Hmmmm? Dance choreography, camera blocking…even costume proposals. What the heck is this?” “B Komachi’s doing a show to reveal our new song soon, right? I came up with a production plan for it.” The group always performed their new songs at the very beginning of a show. Ai had written out a list of ideas she’d thought of for that performance. The president looked bewildered. “Uh… I don’t really get it.” He scratched his temple. “It’s all handwritten, and it’s sort of scatter-brained and hard to follow. It feels like you just wrote down whatever you were thinking.” “Mm-hmm, that’s pretty much what I did. I just had all these ideas.” Ai puffed out her chest proudly. She’d never put together something like this before. Even if she hadn’t managed to do it well, who would care? The president looked from the sheaf of papers to her face and back. “Content aside, I’ve got one question about this.” “Go for it.” “Well, uh, didn’t you say you weren’t going to be an idol anymore?” “Yeah, I said that.” “So why are you submitting show proposals? That’s not something someone who’s quitting does. And you seem really into this. It doesn’t make any sense.” The president looked completely perplexed. That was probably to be expected, though. Just three days ago, even Ai hadn’t dreamed she’d be doing this. “Let’s put the thing about me quitting on hold for a bit.” “How come?” “There’s something I’d like to do for a little longer.” Ai beamed at the president. “Huh?” His mouth was hanging open. That was pretty much the response she’d been expecting. The president was a predictable guy. “About that, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry.” Ai bowed her head to him. In this industry, it was important to show at least a little sincerity. The president had said so himself. “Uh… Right. Well, you know. That’s, uh… I’m not sure whether to be relieved or suspicious.” The president looked conflicted, with deep frown lines creasing his brow. “That’s fine by me, though. Nothing could be better than you staying with B Komachi. You’re the only one who can be center.” “I am, aren’t I?” Ai said with a nod. “I really am the most charismatic member.” “Your ego’s showing again.” “Well, it’s a fact.” “Ha-ha!” The president’s expression softened. “So what changed your mind? Was it my passion for B Komachi?” “Nope, not that,” Ai said, shaking her head. The president’s shoulders slumped. “Oh, it wasn’t?” He seemed a little bummed, which Ai found amusing. “Actually, ever since then, I’ve been—” But just as Ai started to explain, they heard voices outside the door. “Excuse us.” Two group members entered: Almond Eyes and Round Face. Neither of them had expected Ai to be there, and when they saw her, they scowled. Silence fell for a full three seconds. Then, sounding a little awkward, Almond Eyes spoke up. “Listen, about the other day. We overdid it a bit…” “Oh, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” Ai replied. “Huh?” Almond Eyes and Round Face both looked mystified. So did the president. Ai had expected that reaction, too. She smiled at them. “More importantly, I’ve got some ideas for the next new release show.” “The show? What sort of ideas?” “I was just talking them over with the president. You two are going to have a lot more time in the spotlight, so look forward to that.” Round Face tilted her head. “What’s going on? I thought you hated us, Ai.” “No. I don’t hate you. After all, B Komachi is all of us.” “Huh…” “Actually, maybe I should be the one apologizing. I got carried away over being the center, and I feel like I kept hogging all the attention… Nobody likes that sort of thing, do they?” Almond Eyes and Round Face exchanged bewildered glances. Their thoughts were written all across their faces: What’s with this girl, suddenly changing her tune out of nowhere? Yeah, it kind of creeps me out. However, Ai didn’t let it bother her. “So,” she said with a broad smile, “let’s just forget everything that’s happened and start over.” Almond Eyes seemed a little conflicted. “Um, sure. I mean, as long as you’re okay with that…” The girls looked at Ai as if they were trying to figure out her real motives. They probably had no intention of actually turning over a new page but were just trying to keep things peaceful in front of the president. Needless to say, Ai didn’t genuinely want to be their friend, either. What they thought of her didn’t matter, and she didn’t even mind if they kept harassing her in secret. As long as they did their best to avoid making trouble as fellow members of B Komachi, then that was enough. To that end, Ai would wear a mask. The mask of a sensible, “normal” girl. “Great. In that case, here.” Ai showed the papers to the other girls and gave them a brief rundown of her proposal. They both stayed quiet, only nodding to show they were listening, and didn’t object to Ai’s ideas. That increased spotlight time must have been effective. Once she’d finished her explanation, Almond Eyes and Round Face nodded. “Okay. Got it.” “We’ll go over the details after lessons.” “Right. I’m looking forward to it.” Ai smiled at them, and the corners of both girls’ lips curved up just a little, into a pair of incredibly awkward smiles. Even so, Ai had a feeling that these were the kindest expressions the girls had ever shown her. After excusing themselves to go get changed, the girls turned and left the meeting room. The president watched them go, then quietly spoke up. “Hey, Ai. What was that?” “I guess you’d call it…B Komachi members bonding? Reaffirming our friendship?” she said with a smile. “Huhn?” The president looked entirely unconvinced. Of course, Ai didn’t feel anything like friendship toward those two girls. She’d apologized to them, but she hadn’t really meant it. Audiences weren’t the only ones idols’ lies deceived; the lies worked just as well on group members. This had just been the easiest way to match the girls’ idea of “normal.” After all, using those two was the shortest route to Ai’s goal. “A minute ago, I said I’d found something I wanted to do, right?” “Yeah. So what is it?” the president asked, looking puzzled. “I want to cheer on all of Japan, as an idol.” “All of Japan?” The president’s eyes bulged beneath his sunglasses. Ai could imagine what he was probably thinking: That’s crazy talk coming from an indie idol. “On Sunday, you told me about those fan letters, remember?” “Yeah, I remember.” “Since then, I’ve been reading through them. All the ones that had piled up in my locker… And it surprised me a little. Everyone’s just overflowing with love. It made me realize that more people love me than I thought.” Ai had always assumed that since she wasn’t “normal,” people didn’t love her. She was beginning to think she’d been wrong about that, though. Those fan letters had told her there were people who loved even someone like her from the bottom of their hearts. “So I decided I wanted to be like that, too.” “Like what?” “I want to love people and mean it. I want to become the sort of person who can be someone’s fan. ’Cause, I mean, I’m hopelessly lacking in that department.” Ai laughed in spite of herself. “Saying things like that straight out is pretty embarrassing, huh?” Love for one’s neighbors. Love for one’s family. Love for one’s partner. Love for idols. There were so many different types of love, and right now, even if Ai was flattering herself, she couldn’t claim to understand them all. That was why Ai thought she needed to face her fans. Understanding how to root for someone might teach her how to love someone. If she did that, maybe she could be reborn as a decent human being. “So to start with, I thought I’d try being on the side of the fans.” “What do you mean?” “I mean I want to cheer for all my fans, too, instead of just having people cheer for me.” Every one of those fan letters in her locker had held glimpses of a person’s life. There had been people who were studying hard or giving their all at work. Others had been dealing with family problems, and a few were standing up against some pretty intense bullying. Everyone in the world had some sort of difficulty in their life. That was something Ai hadn’t truly grasped until just now. She would begin her search for how to cheer someone on by supporting all of her fans. And if that helped cheer them up, too, she’d be killing two birds with one stone. “Oh, I see.” The president looked down at the sheets of notepaper Ai had brought him. “So that’s what’s behind this plan, huh? Come to think of it, the new song was supposed to be an energetic hype anthem.” “That’s right. The basic idea is ‘B Komachi will cheer you on with everything we’ve got!’” Ai said, smiling brightly. For the past several days, all she’d been thinking about was what she could do for the people who came to see their show. She felt as if that was the most fun she’d had since joining B Komachi. The president’s “joy of fandom” might be a genuine thing. “Lots of the letters mentioned people listening to our songs to cheer themselves up. I’m hoping this new song will help people feel better when they’re hurting and encourage them when they’re feeling sad.” “Yeah. That’s a good thought.” The president smiled a little, nodding. He set his cigarette on the ashtray, exhaling a contented puff of smoke. “Idols have more power than you think. For some people, hearing your song might just change their whole life.” “You think?” “Yeah. It happened to me. Back when I was in college and job hunting wasn’t going so well, this one idol song saved me. Idols have a magic power that can completely transform the way people live. When you think about that, it’s pretty incredible.” Changing someone’s life, just by singing and dancing. It really was incredible. Even calling it a miracle of sorts wouldn’t be overexaggerating. “So basically, President, you’re saying I’m a god… Or I guess I’d be a goddess, huh? An absolute, divine being who’s beautiful and wields the power of song and dance.” “Hang on, I didn’t say anything like that!” “As a matter of fact, it’s clear that my fans are crazy about me. If I keep this up, I bet I could start my own religion. They’ll worship me as Lady Ai, goddess incarnate.” The president looked a little appalled. “Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned those fan letters,” he said, giving her a wry smile. “Well, anyway, I’m glad you’ve managed to put your doubts to rest. It looks like you’ve cleared up the problems with the other members, too.” “Yeah. None of it seems to matter anymore.” As long as she was part of B Komachi, harassment like that was bound to happen again. But right now, Ai was too excited to care. Being supported by her fans made her happy. And she was sure she’d enjoy cheering them on as well. It was a win-win situation. What Ai planned to do would make both her and the world happier. “I’ve decided I’ll cheer for everyone. Kids, adults, and the elderly. People who are happy and people who aren’t. Everybody. Of course, that includes the other members of B Komachi as well.” She’d never resented the other girls in the first place. If they wanted to harass her, they were welcome to do that until they’d had enough. Ai would be their fan. If it was vocal assignments they wanted, she’d hand them over. If they wanted to stand out onstage, she’d give them all the support they needed. As long as those girls were happy, then as their fan, she’d also be able to enjoy herself. “I think everybody should be happy. Because all of Japan is my oshi. My fave.” “So you’re going to cheer on everyone in the country, young and old, men and women, even the people you don’t get along with? You sure don’t think small, do you?” “President, you know what I’m like. Ai Hoshino is a greedy girl.” The president chuckled. “Yeah, that’s right. You’re not normal—you’re a natural-born idol.”
Chapter 1
65 min read