Chapter 5: Begin
The lounge room was a sensory overload after the sterile hallway. Strobing pink and blue LEDs pulsed in sync with the bass-heavy track filtering through speakers, making the glitter embedded in the vinyl floor tiles sparkle like a galaxy underfoot. The mirrored walls multiplied the space—and the people—into infinity. Rena saw a hundred anxious maids reflected back.
Three figures turned from a vanity cluttered with makeup bags and soda cans as the door hissed shut behind Yuna and Akira.
For a breath-held second, there was only the music and the assessment. Three sets of eyes, experienced and brutally professional, scanned him from the lace headpiece to the block heels. Rena felt like a bug under a spotlight, pinned by their collective gaze.
Then, a whirlwind of dried blonde hair and twintails erupted from the plush white sofa.
“New girl!” The cry was high, bright, and unstoppable. Mina Tamura launched herself across the room, her smile wide enough to eclipse the disco ball. Before Rena could flinch, arms were wrapped around him in a crushing, enthusiastic hug. The scent of strawberry gum and hairspray filled his nose. “Oh my gosh, you’re the emergency sub? You’re so cute! That outfit! Is that real satin?”
Rena stiffened, every muscle locking. The hug was too tight, too familiar. He made a small, choked noise that was supposed to be protest but came out as a pathetic squeak.
“Mina, you’re suffocating our salvation,” a calm, melodic voice said. A petite girl with serene eyes and a slight smile stood from the vanity stool. Suki Yamato moved with a quiet grace. “Let her breathe. We don’t want her fainting before choreo.”
Mina peeled away, but kept her hands on Rena’s shoulders, beaming. “Right, right! Sorry! I’m Mina! That’s Suki! And that’s Hikaru, she’s our leader!” She pointed a thumb over her shoulder.
Hikaru Tanaka hadn’t moved. She was perched on the arm of the sofa, one long leg crossed over the other. Her silky pink hair cascaded over one shoulder, and her expression was a masterpiece of polite detachment. Her doe-like eyes, however, were not detached. They were analytical, moving from Rena’s face to the nervous clutch of his hands on the apron, to the way he stood in the heels—a slight, uncomfortable lean.
“Rena, is it?” Hikaru said. Her voice was sweet, but it had a core of something harder, like a candy with a bitter center. “Yuna’s secret weapon.”
“H-hi,” Rena managed. He aimed for shy, and landed squarely on terrified. He offered a tiny, stiff wave.
“So cute!” Mina squealed again, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “You’re even shyer than they said! Don’t worry, we don’t bite! Well, Hikaru might if you mess up the formation, but only a little!”
“Mina.” Hikaru’s single word was a gentle frost, and Mina mimed zipping her lips.
Suki drifted closer, her head tilted. “Your complexion is amazing. What foundation does Yuna use on you?”
Rena’s mind went blank. Foundation? It was the paste Yuna had slapped on his face. He shrugged weakly, looking down at his shoes.
“See? Shy!” Mina declared, as if she’d diagnosed a rare condition. “It’s okay! We’ll take care of you. The routine for ‘Pixel Heart’ isn’t too hard, just a lot of jumping. You look light! You’ll be fine!”
The door opened and Yuna leaned back in, her sharp bob a platinum slash against the dark hall. “Girls, be nice. Get her warmed up. I’m finalizing things with Akira. Rena, listen to them.” Her eyes found her brother’s, holding a warning and a command. Don’t blow this. Then she was gone again.
The silence she left behind was different now. It was just the four of them, the music, and the watching mirrors.
Hikaru unfolded herself from the sofa and walked over. She was taller than Rena had realized, especially in his flat-heeled Mary Janes. She stopped just inside his personal space, forcing him to look up. Her perfume was something expensive and floral.
“So,” Hikaru said, her bubbly stage persona entirely absent. “You’ve never performed live before.”
It wasn’t a question. Rena shook his head.
“You know the stakes? This isn’t a school festival. C4 has a reputation. This show is sold out. If you falter, the whole unit looks amateur.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, not cruel, but devoid of warmth.
“Hikaru, be nice,” Suki murmured, applying a clear gloss to her lips in the mirror.
“I am being nice. I’m being realistic.” Hikaru’s eyes narrowed just a fraction. “There’s something… familiar about you. Have we met?”
Rena’s blood ran cold. He shook his head again, too vigorously, making the lace on his headpiece tremble.
“Hikaru, you say that to every pretty girl,” Mina laughed, looping her arm through Rena’s. “Come on, new girl! Let’s show you the starting pose! It’s all about the angle of your chin, see?” She struck a pose, one hand on her hip, chin tilted down but eyes looking up through her lashes. It was shockingly effective.
Mimicking her, Rena felt absurd. He moved his hands, shifted his weight. The skirt flared.
“Hips more to the left,” Suki offered softly from her seat. “Your center of gravity is off. You’re standing like you’re waiting for a bus.”
He adjusted. The heels wobbled.
Hikaru watched, arms crossed. Her earlier suspicion was now laced with a spark of something else—curiosity, perhaps. The way this ‘Rena’ moved was awkward, yes, but there was a strange lack of innate feminine posturing. It was like watching someone pilot a complicated machine.
“Your sister’s quite the stylist,” Hikaru said, the word ‘sister’ hanging in the air. “To find you and polish you up so fast. It’s impressive.”
Rena knew a probe when he heard one. He gave another small shrug, aiming for mysterious, hoping it read as shy.
“Okay, enough interrogation!” Mina chirped. “Music! Let’s run the first chorus! Just follow me!”
Suki reached over and tapped a tablet. A new song burst forth, a sugary, hyper-active melody that felt like a direct assault on Rena’s sensibilities. Mina instantly slid into motion, her movements crisp, energetic, perfectly synchronized to the beat. She was a natural, all grinning confidence.
Rena tried. He really did. He copied her arm movements, a stiff, delayed mimicry. He attempted the little skip-step, and the skirt flounced wildly, nearly throwing him off balance. The steps were simple, but they required a coordination between feet, hips, and hands that felt utterly foreign. He was a champion of joystick combos, not this… this bubbly gymnastics.
He stumbled on a turn. His face burned beneath the foundation.
Suki watched with patient eyes. Hikaru’s expression was unreadable.
The chorus ended. Rena stood panting slightly, a flush of real exertion and humiliation creeping up his neck. The maid outfit felt like a furnace.
Hikaru pushed off from the mirror she’d been leaning against. She walked over until she was directly in front of him again. This time, she didn’t speak to him. She reached out, and with two fingers, gently but firmly nudged his chin up. Her touch was electric, sending a jolt of panic through him.
“The cameras will be here,” she said, her voice low, for him alone. Her eyes searched his. That flicker of curiosity was brighter now, mixed with a hint of incredulous amusement. “You can’t look at your feet. You have to sell it. Even if you’re faking.” A tiny, knowing smile touched her lips, there and gone in an instant. “Especially if you’re faking.”
She released his chin and turned to the others, her stage smile snapping back into place like a mask. “Again, from the top. Mina, slow it down for her. We have a few minutes.”
As Mina cheered and Suki reset the music, Rena remained frozen. The spot where Hikaru’s fingers had been felt branded. Her words weren’t just advice. They felt like a challenge, and a quiet, terrifying acknowledgement that she saw something the others didn’t.
The mirrors showed a breathless girl in a maid costume, surrounded by professionals. One of them was smiling, one was serene, and one—the one with the pink hair and the sharpest eyes—was watching ‘her’ with an intensity that promised this was only the beginning.