Chapter 12: Mi
The C4 Lounge felt different today. The usual cherry blossom perfume hung thicker in the air, mixed with the sharp tang of hairspray and anticipation. Ren—no, Rena—sat stiffly on a velvet ottoman, the sequins on her mint-green dress scratching faintly at his thighs through the tights. The lack of sleep was a physical weight behind his eyes, a granular sensation like sand had been poured into his skull.
“Rena-chan, you look like you fought a yokai and lost,” Mina chirped, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her twin blonde tails swung like metronomes. “Big dark circles! Were you up all night watching scary streams?”
He managed a weak shrug, the gesture feeling alien in the confines of the frilly sleeve. “Couldn’t sleep well.” His voice came out softer, higher than he intended. Rena’s voice.
Hikaru, from her perch on the arm of a plush sofa, said nothing. She was scrolling through her phone, her long pink hair a curtain she’d half-hidden behind. But Ren felt the weight of her attention, a laser-guided focus he could sense even through his exhaustion.
Mina flopped down beside Suki, who was quietly tuning a small digital keyboard in her lap, her bangs a perpetual veil. “I was up late too! I was watching this dating reality show. It’s so stupid. The guy was like, ‘I love your spirit,’ and then he chose the girl with the bigger chest. Men are so predictable.”
“They’re simple creatures,” Hikaru said, not looking up. Her tone was light, conversational. “Driven by basic, visual inputs.” She finally lifted her gaze, and it landed directly on Ren. A flicker of a smile touched her lips. “Right, Rena-chan?”
Ren felt a flush creep up his neck. He looked away, at his own reflection in one of the countless mirrored panels. A tired girl in a frilly dress stared back, bewildered.
“I wouldn’t know,” he mumbled.
“Aw, don’t be like that!” Mina leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischievous curiosity. “You’re so pretty and cute. You must have, like, a ton of admirers. Do you have a crush on anyone?”
The question hit the room like a pin drop. Even Suki’s gentle keystrokes halted.
Ren’s mind went blank, then white-hot. A crush? The concept was absurd, a distant planet. His world had been controllers, rankings, his sister’s nagging. Now it was lip gloss and chord progressions. But unbidden, an image flashed: Hikaru’s confident smirk from the previous chapter, the close press of her back against his in dance practice, the shocking, dry touch of her lips on his cheek. His brain short-circuited, attempting to process the data through both Ren’s panic and Rena’s expected persona.
The result was a spectacular system failure.
His entire face ignited, a sudden, violent crimson that spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He couldn’t speak. He just stared at Mina, his green eyes wide with a deer-in-headlights horror that was entirely, authentically genuine. His mouth opened, then closed.
Mina clasped her hands together. “Oh my gosh! Look at that reaction! You do! You totally do! Who is it? Is it someone from our staff? A producer? Tell me!”
“I… it’s not…” The words died in his throat. He was mortified. This was worse than tripping on stage. This was internal, humiliating.
His gaze, desperate for an anchor, flickered against his will toward Hikaru.
She was watching him, her doe-like eyes wide and innocent. But there was a knowing gleam in them, a spark of pure, unadulterated mischief. She saw his panic, his unintended glance. She saw the memory of her own kiss animating his turmoil. She slowly brought a bottle of water to her lips, her eyes locked on his. She took a slow, deliberate sip, her throat moving as she swallowed.
Ren watched the motion. He couldn’t look away. He felt his own throat convulse in a helpless, audible gulp.
The sound was tiny, but in the quiet room, it was a thunderclap.
Mina squealed. “You gulped! That means it’s someone here! In this room!” Her head swiveled between Suki and Hikaru. Suki shrank slightly behind her keyboard, a faint, confused shake of her head.
Hikaru just smiled sweetly, placing her water bottle down with a soft click. “Don’t tease her so much, Mina-chan. Rena-chan is shy. Look, she might actually combust. And Yuna would charge us for the dry cleaning.”
The door to the lounge burst open, hitting the wall with a thud that made everyone jump. Yuna stood in the doorway, a clipboard in one hand and a headset dangling from the other. Her sharp bob was flawless, her expression stormy.
“What is this, a sleepover? Gossip hour? The sound engineer is ready and waiting. Up. Now. On the stage. Vocal drills. You have thirty seconds to stop being girls and start being idols.”
The spell shattered. Mina popped up instantly, chattering an apology. Suki gathered her keyboard. Hikaru stood smoothly, stretching her arms above her head with a casual grace that felt like a performance in itself.
Ren stumbled to his feet, his legs shaky with adrenaline and shame. As he hurried after Mina, he felt a hand briefly brush his lower back, guiding him forward. It was a light, professional touch. A stylist directing her model.
He turned his head just enough to see Hikaru falling into step beside him, her stage-perfect smile still in place. She leaned in, just a fraction, her voice a honeyed whisper meant only for him beneath the sudden chaos of Yuna’s commands.
“Don’t worry,” she murmured. “Your secret’s safe with me.” She paused, letting the words hang. “For now.”
Then she skipped ahead, joining Mina, her laughter tinkling and bright as she began to discuss the first song’s key. Ren stood frozen for one more second at the edge of the neon-drenched stage, the spotlight a waiting maw, the whisper clinging to him like a second, more confining skin. The practice hadn’t even begun, and he already felt more exposed than ever under the lights.