Chapter 1

# Chapter One — "The Perfect Group"

### 1.1 Junko

A strong autumn wind rushed against the window of our room just as it had all day. Here inside the room—on the less frigid side of the glass—the atmosphere was largely the same, except the steady stream of wind came in the form of complaints—not air—from my best friend in the bottom bunk. Much like the blustering gale outside, this had been the prevailing condition most of the week—longer than that, actually—and had set the mood in our little space more firmly than any of my efforts to lighten things had been able to affect. This, I had come to accept, was simply how things would be for the here and now.

    "Ahh! I can't believe our debut was a failure!" The girl on the bottom bunk—my best friend and roommate—groaned at me as the windows continued to rattle loudly over her voice.

    Our label—provided housing isn't what anyone would think of as particularly special—a sentiment with which I would wholeheartedly agree were it not for it housing my most cherished friend within its tiny beige walls. In fact it wouldn't be unfair to say that that room was practically identical to nearly all the rooms in I MY ME's contract housing—spartan and thoroughly unmotivating, with minimal furnishings and barely enough space to accommodate two people living there full time. Even if both of those people were exceptionally neat and tidy—and that was a trait that ran particularly strongly in only one of us (I'll let you guess which one)—it wouldn't be hard to see how such close quarters could lead to more than a few frayed nerves and squabbles. This was a common problem with these sorts of living arrangements, and the first few weeks of training saw a flurry of wannabe idols swapping roommates as readily as kids trade desserts in the school cafeteria. It was, however, an occurrence that this pair of wannabe idols was, conveniently, fairly immune to, since it wasn't our first time living together. Even before signing our contracts and moving to these… denser surroundings, we'd lived together for nearly five years. Granted, we each had our own room then, but it was still close enough that by now I consider my roommate's less courteous habits as more of a selection of personality quirks—the little things that make her, her—rather than any sort of deal breaker. This was just a time of our lives where we'd be able to become even closer.

  That's what I keep telling myself. At least at times like this.

    Despite our mismatched attitudes toward clutter, our room was—surprisingly—mostly neat and tidy. The brown laminate flooring was clear of anything that didn't belong, covered in large part by a circular pink rug next to our bunk beds and otherwise clear except for a few pairs of shoes lined up near the entryway—half immaculately organized, and half notably less so. An unorganized desk covered in small piles of papers and books ran parallel to the beds pressed up against the rattling window, the topmost sheet of any given pile occasionally lurching a few inches this way or that when an especially impressive gust found its way into the room. I'd given up on that particular battle and ceded the desk entirely to her, having an easier time studying on my own in the dorm's lounge or in my bunk away from certain distractions. In the bed below mine, as I've mentioned, is my roommate—my favorite person in the whole world. My partner on the path to becoming famous idols. A beautiful, well groomed brunette with bright eyes and a laugh that sounds like music.

    At least that's who she usually is. For some time, she'd been as she is right now. A disheveled mess lazily sprawling out, still in her pajamas—a rather childish set covered with cartoon frogs—despite the time already being well past noon. Her short brown hair was a mess from neglect, but at this point she couldn't care less. As she had put it: "Who's gonna see it but you?" And as I had already seen it, doing anything about it now seemed like wasted effort, even if it drove me completely crazy. This slovenly attitude she'd adopted extended to the half-empty bag of potato chips she'd brought to bed, messily shoving them into her mouth in between griping and no doubt flinging crumbs everywhere for me to clean up later.

    The upper bunk of our little abode housed a scene that was in nearly all respects the reverse of the disaster lurking below—a contrast that was quite purposely constructed. Sitting upright with my back against the wall—trying to be the picture of ladylike poise, though goodness knows nobody here would notice—was fair-skinned, pink haired me. I wore my hair long, framing my face in a style that had taken me years to perfect, its shade chosen in part to perfectly set off my seafoam green eyes. I had been called many things by many people, even before our journey to become idols had started—most of them flattering. In the words of many, my carefully cultivated style had frequently been described as "breathtaking", or simply "beautiful"—the small mole under my left eye being, in the words of one of the more poetic commentators on my appearance, "the single flaw in an otherwise perfect jewel."

    The line didn't work, but I did appreciate the effort put into the comparison, even though it—like most compliments paid toward me—was about the image I had made for myself, and not a critique of the real me. Some of us take a lot of work to be beautiful, while others come upon it naturally.

    Even when they're in a particularly sullen mood.

    Sitting still despite my roommate's grouching—*perhaps she'll let it go if I don't acknowledge it?*—I focused back on my current book, '*Witness of the Skies'*. A rather thick tome with a lovely elaborate cover that had caught my eye immediately. Unable to bring myself to ignore her for long, I lifted my attention from the book and let out a light sigh, rubbing gently at my eyes as I gathered my thoughts on this subject which had been all too common recently. This wasn't the first time we had spoken about this particular topic since our debut months ago—it probably wasn't even the twentieth time—and yet for all the talking we'd done I still didn't feel as though we'd made any significant breakthroughs.

    "I know it's upsetting, Rinko, but there's nothing we can do about it. We'll just have to do better next time." I'd said variations on those words dozens of times already, often several times a day, but they were no more effective this time than any other.

    "If we even get a *next time*!" Her voice, normally sweet and full of excitement, had a distinct edge of what I could only call crankiness. I heard the telltale sounds of her stretching loudly, then a quick, dull thwack. Looking over the edge of my bunk I saw a thin arm flopped over the side of her bed, accompanied by a leg dangling off the mattress from the knee down. She lazily swung her leg, bouncing her heel off the side of the bed rhythmically, though it barely made a sound through her pink sock. It didn't look comfortable, but it was the furthest she'd gotten out of bed in several hours, so I considered it a small step in the right direction.

    "Think about it, Junko. We bombed! There's no way they're gonna give us another single after that! We're done for!"

    "We did our best and that's what matters. We just have to hope for the best."

    That is afterall how things work in the idol business. You train like crazy, debut all of your hard work, and then it's in the hands of the audience and your label. Beyond hoping and waiting, there isn't much else an aspiring idol can do. The matter was entirely out of our hands.

    At least, that's how it seems to me.

    "I'm tired of waiting and hoping!" Rinko pouted in a very un-idollike manner. "The public just isn't interested in us! Being an idol isn't an easy job, I get that! You've gotta be able to dance, sing, act… and smile the whole time! There's just so many things going on at once! I know I can do it! Heck, I bet I could be one of the best idols out there!" She faltered for a moment. "Maybe I just… wasn't ready yet…" Her words trailed off at the end of her outburst as though she was only now confronting a possibility she would rather not acknowledge. This short pause was broken by a frustrated yell as she shoveled another handful of greasy chips down her throat. She would have heard another sad sigh from the bunk above her, had it not been drowned out by the crunching and crinkling that filled our small room. Unsure of how else to respond or what else was left unsaid on the matter, I returned my attention back to the book.

    Rinko let out a sigh of her own, burying her face in her pillow by the sound of it. It sounded almost like she was crying—though, in our years together, that was one thing I'd never seen Rinko do—as she continued to ramble to herself quietly. There had to be a solution, some way to continue our dream and make Rinko happy, but I hadn't a clue what it could be.

    "Maybe the reason we failed wasn't our fault." She spoke with a sad voice muffled by the pillow. "I mean, c'mon! People just aren't into duos anymore! Idol fans now are mostly into animated girls or ginormous-"

    She paused mid-word, then started giggling excitedly. It was at this point that she shot up, completely oblivious that she was still in bed and—most importantly—in the bottom bunk. Smacking her head on the bottom of my bed, she let out a short squeal.

    Of course, seeing none of this, I was filled with only concern that she may have knocked herself silly.

    "Rinko?! Are you okay?!" I shouted frantically, worried after what I had just heard—and felt—below me.

    "That's it!"

    "What's it?!"

    I scrambled down over the side of my bunk—still panicking over Rinko's cry—and slid onto the bed next to her. I reached out to check her head for injury, only for my hands to be swatted away clumsily. Her eyes didn't seem pained at all, shedding no tears and looking generally as bright and beautiful as they normally did, if not moreso. Rinko evidently had more important things on her mind and wouldn't be distracted now by a little bump on the head.

    "We need to make a GINORMOUS idol group! I have a plan! Follow me!" Rinko seemed to buzz with excitement as she pushed past me and rushed to the door, only to be stopped before she could escape as my calls finally made it through to her.

    "Rinko! Rinko, wait, we have to change first!" She may be fine walking around the dorm in her pajamas, but I'm certainly not, and since I'd had no desire to leave her alone in such a state this morning neither of us had bothered to change out of our sleep clothes.

    "Oh!" My roommate glanced down at her ensemble, blushing slightly with embarrassment at what she had almost done. "Forgot about that… Quickly!"

    Changing into the first presentable clothing in our closets—and after wrestling with Rinko to comb out her nest of hair back into something resembling her usual style—we were soon on our way to wherever it was that Rinko had in mind. As she jogged away from our room I followed promptly behind her as best I could, barely keeping up with her quick pace. A day of doing absolutely nothing seemed to mean that she had energy to spare, and I had slipped on a pair of heels that—while the picture of cuteness—weren't designed for this sort of pace. Following after Rinko I felt a bit like Alice chasing the white rabbit, losing ground on the stairs and resigning myself to looking foolish, breaking into a brisk run down a long hallway with my shoes clenched tightly in my hands until we arrived at… the door of our producer.

    I was still unsure of what Rinko had planned, but I trusted her completely.

    If just the tiniest bit hesitantly…

    Rinko thrust her hand into the door—already cracked just the slightest distance—and firmly pushed it open, not bothering to knock. There was thankfully only one person inside: our slightly lazy producer, Lina Fujimura. The woman who was ultimately responsible for our fate as idols. Not disturbed by Rinko in the slightest, Lina kept her focus down on her cellphone. She'd often remarked in the past that she didn't have the time or energy to deal with Rinko that day—or most days, it seemed—but today she seemed even more keen than usual to ignore us in favor of whichever mobile game was her favorite this week. Unwilling to deal with us, she quickly grabbed the mug of coffee from her desk, rotated her chair away from us, and took a long, noisy sip.

    Rinko smiled back at me a bit mischievously as she walked straight past the desk without even acknowledging Lina's presence. She hummed a tune—an old standard from the 80's—a bit too loudly to be inconspicuous and power-walked straight to the carefully organized cabinets lining the back wall. I watched with equal parts confusion and concern, wondering what on earth she was planning to do next. To my horror, Rinko yanked a long metal drawer fully out of a cabinet in one smooth motion, grasped it tightly with both arms, turned around, and walked past me out the door. I looked at Lina nervously, assuming that she would have some reaction to what had just occurred, only to watch her not move so much as an inch.

    *…does she not care?*

    Either way, we left our producer exactly as we'd found her and swiftly headed back to our room—the best possible outcome for all of us as far as I'm concerned.

    We arrived back at the dorm just as Rinko seemed to be running out of steam thanks to the sizable hunk of metal and paper she'd hauled halfway across the building. I made sure to run ahead of her to open the door and make sure that her trance wouldn't be broken. Knowing Rinko, if she stopped right now then she may not start up again easily—at least not without a nap, or a snack, or some other excuse to procrastinate—and by now my curiosity demanded I discover exactly where this was going to lead. Rinko walked through the opened door, set the drawer on the pink rug, and sat down on her bed. She immediately started pulling out files several at a time, looking at each of them with a huge, unwavering grin on her face. After a minute I caught on to what she was doing. She was looking through profiles of idols signed with I MY ME for those who seemed suitable for her plan. Before I could attempt to figure out much more of my roommate's thought process, Rinko spoke up.

    "We're going to form a GI-GAN-TIC idol group! We'll pick the members, recruit them ourselves, and then Lina won't have any reason to say no! We'll do all the work! We'll debut and it'll be a big hit, I know we will! C'mon, help me find our future members!"

    Something about the way Rinko was talking sent a wave a sadness washing over me despite her excitement. A small amount of heat welled up in my eyes for a moment and I stood quietly, unsure of what to say or do. Ultimately I opted to move to our window and fiddled with the shades, my face safely hidden from my best friend's sight as I struggled to get my appearance under control. Rinko and I had been through so much together, nearly half our lives in fact—and we'd grown to be practically sisters.

    *No… more than sisters… I'd never treat her like her actual sister did. She means more to me than that…*

    When Rinko's home life had been rough, I had been there. When her parents kicked her out, I was the one who made sure she had a place to call home. Sure, dad helped a ton by being so supportive and wonderful, but it wasn't wrong to say that I was only where I was—and Rinko was only where she was—because this was an adventure we had gone on together. Through the entire process—from being idol fans, to getting signed by I MY ME, straight through training and on to our debut as a duo act—my journey as an idol had had one consistency, and the thought that my place at Rinko's side may be… not extinguished, but potentially diminished, didn't sit well with me at all. It was one thing to fail together, because then we would still be together for whatever came next. This, though…

    What if our time as a duo is already over?

    *She always wanted to be an idol, so badly…*

    On top of this sadness, lurking in the back of my mind like always, was more than a little concern for Rinko should these efforts prove fruitless and our experiment was truly over. There was no way Lina would just let us form our own group—especially with how our debut performance went—but Rinko seems determined to continue onward with her idea anyway. Maybe she knows that and still wants to try defying the odds. Lina did let her go this far without saying anything, and she'd had ample opportunity in her office to stop her. Or maybe she's just too stubborn to give up. That certainly seems plausible, knowing Rinko. Perhaps it's even simpler—that since being an idol has been her driving goal for so long, maybe Rinko would have no real direction in life if not for that dream, and so failure was simply not an option she was able to comprehend. If the lazy, aimless girl who'd loafed around the last few months was Rinko when she still had hope…

    *That won't do. No, not at all.*

    Nearly a third of the files had been spread out onto her bed when I let out a long, exasperated sigh and admitted the hard truth to myself. There was nothing that could be done at this point to change Rinko's mind. This is just one of the many things I admire about Rinko, and she honestly wouldn't be Rinko if she was any other way. When she sets her mind to something—really, truly sets her mind to it—she has an uncanny knack for making it happen. Reasoning that this was going to happen one way or another, and knowing that I'd always rather try to help her be happy instead of standing in her way, I sat down next to my best friend and began sorting through the files with her.

    Rinko's eyes scanned all the photos and handwriting on each profile sheet as she flipped through one file after another. Was she actually reading everything carefully? Probably not, but she acted with determination, which counts for something. Explaining her plan in a little more detail than just "gigantic idol group", she wanted to build a magical ensemble with spectacular idols, each bringing something unique to the group. Most of the files were tossed onto the floor after a short glance, Rinko deeming them not suitable for one reason or another.

    *"Too established. She probably won't do well if she's not the center of attention."*

    *"Already part of a group. What if they're doing the same thing we are? We can't break that up!"*

    *"Not ready yet. She's not even close to finished with training!"*

    *"This one's perfect! She's so cute! She's… a guy? So close…"*

    Despite her usually flighty personality, Rinko was unusually focused as she read through the files, quietly mouthing the information out loud to herself before passing judgment on the girls within. Her face lit up excitedly as she opened the file of the idol who was to be our first recruit—the lovely and talented Dam-Bi Han. The beautiful ravenette was already produced by Lina, and had debuted some time ago to a successful solo career. What was surprising to both of us was that our friend was in the top fifty of I MY ME's idols. Dam-Bi was amazingly talented—that much was a secret to no one—but it had never occurred to either of us that she was *that* amazing. Rinko set her file aside, remarking that she'd have to be asked to join immediately.

    Spurred on by how "Everything's coming together!", we continued through the drawer, reading the profiles of a large number of idols who we were already familiar with, only to find something not quite perfect in all of them. Eventually though, a name neither of us had ever seen before came up.

    "Hey Junko, take a look at this girl! Her name's Chiyo and she's super cute and it says she has permission to keep her own hamster and she's absolutely in love with them!" She handed the file over with more excitement than accuracy. "Hamsters are sooo cute! I want a hamster…"

    "Hmm…" I wondered out loud after taking a look inside the manila envelope Rinko had slapped into my thigh in her excitement. "It's a bit strange. She finished her training months ago and passed the admissions, but she isn't listed under a producer yet."

    Dismissing the oddity—*probably just a clerical error?*—I handed the file back to Rinko with much more care than it had been delivered to me, who then added Chiyo to a pile that now consisted of her and Dam-Bi—the exact minimum number of potential recruits to even be called a pile. Rinko was sure that she absolutely *needed* to have her in the group. If Dam-Bi would bring a heightened sense of fashion to the group, Chiyo would provide as much raw cuteness as we could possibly need.

    "Ah, just who I was searching for!" A success which was practically shouted at me despite the fact that we were sitting practically touching each other. Rinko then held the thick folder triumphantly in the air, causing it to bend roughly against the roof of her bunk. Despite not getting a good look at it, I could tell whose file it was from just a quick glance at the photo paperclipped to the front of the file. There was only one idol at I MY ME who wore her hair in those sort of long blonde pigtails, so even if her other admittedly impressive features hadn't made her identity clear, there was no mistaking exactly who had gotten Rinko so excited. And this particular girl was rumored to be a bit…

    "Are you serious, Rinko?!"

    …difficult.

    "*Eimi Inagawa*?"

    "Of course!" Something about the huge smile—noticably larger than the grin she had already been wearing—that had overtaken the majority of Rinko's face made me feel…

    *Hmph.*

    "She's perfect!" Her eyes were practically glimmering, almost as if she were completely starstruck just from seeing the idol's photograph. Rinko very obviously had a high opinion of the girl. Much higher than my own, if even a fraction of what I'd heard was true.

    Rinko set Eimi's file on top of Chiyo's with enough care for me to find it annoying, not bothering to follow up on my *heavily* implied concerns.

    "If we wanna succeed, having her in our group's a must!"

    "Rinko… think about this…" I paused to make sure the source of my objection would be crystal clear. "She's probably the most profitable idol at I MY ME. The chances of us even talking to her are nearly zero."

    "Don't worry, I'll figure it all out!" Rinko spoke confidently, but I couldn't help feeling that she wasn't really looking at the bigger picture. My lips parted slightly, ready to list off more reasons why Eimi was a less than ideal choice for the group, but realized that Rinko was ending the conversation right there when she grabbed a few more files and dove back to work.

    *Well, it's not like she's actually going to say yes anyway.*

    Closing my mouth without wasting a word, I looked through the next file. Something about this one struck me as… off. Judging by the handwritten notes accompanying the profile, it seemed that she was going to have her contract terminated soon. Her situation read as essentially the same as ours—a failed debut followed by little interest followed by nothing to show for it. The notes in her file indicated that her producer just wasn't willing to put in the effort to help her succeed in her chosen style of performance, which sounded somehow even worse than our situation.

    At least Lina, for all her laziness, actually did her job well.

    "Hey, take a look at this one."

    My roommate snatched the file from my hands, tossing her current reading material into the sprawling mound of rejections which had started to obscure our rug. She quickly skimmed the file, her smile falling at the corners until a slight frown took its place.

    "No way!" She cried out in disbelief. "It says she's half-British. And can play the koto! Have they even thought about what they're losing? Have they even LOOKED at her?!" She murmured something to herself that I couldn't quite understand, lightly touching the photograph of the young idol fully done up in a very traditional green kimono. She stared intently into the folder for a few moments—enough that I could visualize the pieces of her grand plan starting to move into place inside her mind—then set it on top of the slowly growing "yes" pile.

    "Megumi Aihara…"

    I watched her face, unconsciously holding my breath. A surge of anxiety flashed through me. Rinko's plan, it seemed, had finally succeeded in drawing me in, and I found myself eager to know her verdict on my instincts.

    "We'll need someone classy like her for sure! Great job!"

    I smiled slightly at this—the first smile I'd had in quite some time that wasn't forced. I had made my first contribution to Rinko's efforts in some meaningful way, and that was a very pleasant feeling.

    After about another hour passed by, we'd finally finished going through the entire drawer. Our successes were sorted into two stacks of idols Rinko was interested in. The first were the girls she *knew* she needed to have *immediately*—our friend Dam-Bi Han, Chiyo Watanabe, Megumi Aihara, and of course the "Star of I MY ME", Eimi Inagawa. Additionally, I'd found one promising girl who was receiving excellent reviews on passing her recent exams, who Rinko was sure she could get Lina to snatch up for her.

    The second group were all of the idols Rinko wanted who were still in training and working toward their examinations, and who would therefore be a little more difficult to recruit just yet. They were what Rinko was calling "Phase Two" of her plan, which I thought was very optimistic as we were yet to actually enter a phase one.

    Both groupings got tossed onto the ever growing mess that was Rinko's desk, taking pride of place among a veritable forest of papers. I then organized the remainder of the files—returning them minus a few felt bad enough without making a complete mess of things—and we carried the heavy drawer back to Lina's office. Just like before, Rinko barged straight in—directly past a young lady waiting patiently to meet with Lina—and we slid it back into place, angling the heavy slab awkwardly before pushing the long drawer all the way back onto its track with a satisfying click. Looking to Lina once more, she was still doing her best to avoid any sort of eye contact with either of us, and I accepted that she really wasn't going to do anything to stop us. After exiting Lina's office and quietly closing the door behind us, Rinko turned to me with stars in her eyes.

    "Okay, it's time to recruit! Do you know Dam-Bi's schedule this semester?" She knew full well that I didn't have any more of an idea than she did—probably less, since she knows Dam-Bi a bit better than I do—and yet she asked anyway.

    "She goes to Kikyo… does she have extra classes today? I'm really not sure…"

    "Then let's go find her! You start from the ground floor and we'll meet back at our room once we're done, okay?"

    Before I could form a response she was off, skipping—practically galloping—toward the stairs. I merely smiled softly to myself, and even laughed a bit out loud, before walking toward the elevator.

    It was nice to see her so happy about something again.

\_\_\_\_

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