Arc-1 Ep-02
“—That wraps up announcements. Alright, class rep.”
“Stand! Bow!”
“Be careful on your way home.”
The final homeroom of the day ended smoothly. Amid the chatter of my classmates, I grabbed my things and quickly stood up.
“Hey, wait! Kayanuma-san!”
“…Hm? What’s up?”
“Uh, well, since we moved up to second year, the class changed, and there are a lot of new faces, right?”
“Yeah, it’s tough matching names to faces.”
“Right, exactly! So, um, a few of us are going to hang out to get to know each other. Wanna join, Kayanuma-san?”
“Sorry, I’ve got plans after this.”
“Oh… I see…”
“Yeah, I’ll join next time if our schedules line up. Sorry about today. See you tomorrow!”
“Uh, yeah… Goodbye…”
Wasting time with a popular guy from my class, I walk briskly down the hallway—not running, but moving gracefully, as if gliding.
“There she is… Second-year Kayamuma-senpai.”
“She’s so cute and beautiful…”
“How does she keep her long hair that perfect…?”
I feel eyes on me from all directions, accompanied by murmurs of admiration. With a slight smile on my face and a smug grin in my heart, I leave the school grounds under their gazes.
After two transfers, three train lines, and eleven stations, I arrive at the station nearest my destination.
Exiting the subway and walking for three minutes, I spot the building I’m headed to. The office building is adorned with a stylish logo: ff・Fortissimo.
This is the entertainment agency that houses Sistema Solare , the idol group I passed the audition for. As a trainee preparing for debut, I undergo daily lessons here. On school days, it’s after class; on days off, it starts in the morning. It’s a grueling schedule.
[T/N- Sistema Solare is Italian for Solar system]
Ignoring the gleaming glass of the main entrance, I head to the back. As a mere trainee who hasn’t debuted yet, I’m relegated to the staff-only rear entrance.
“Good afternoon. I’m Kayanuma, a Shisu-Solare trainee.”
I press the intercom and clearly state my affiliation and name. The security guard checks the camera feed before unlocking the door. Shisu-Solare is the official abbreviation for Sistema Solare, originally coined by fans and later adopted by the agency.
[T/N- Sistema Solare → システマ・ソラーレ → シスソラ → Shisu-Solare(Pronunciation - Shususorare)]
“Good afternoon, Mizoguchi-san.”
“Hey, afternoon, Mikuri-chan. Keep up the hard work today!”
“Thanks! You too, Mizoguchi-san♪”
I scan the barcode on my issued card at the entry machine while exchanging light banter with the middle-aged guard, who looks to be in his forties. When I flash a charming smile, his face lights up with delight.
(Men are so easy. Well, I guess I understand—since I used to be one myself.)
As I walk down the spotless hallway, a girl steps out of the bathroom about five meters ahead. Seeing her, I smile and call out.
“Nozomi-chan!”
“Huh? Oh, Mikuri-chan! Afternoon!”
“Afternoon!”
She turns and beams with a joyful smile. That radiant expression from such a beautiful girl makes me momentarily regret not being born a man.
Nozomi Nanazawa.
She’s one of the eight who passed the sixth-generation audition alongside me. I don’t mean to brag, but she’s the second-most beautiful among us—right after me. A stunning girl. Same age, same grade. Since the other six are all different ages and school years, she was the first one I got close to.
(Though there were other reasons, too.)
While the other six are cute in their own ways, they don’t quite match our level of beauty. Plus, their motivations for becoming idols differ from ours. As a result, Nozomi and I naturally formed our own little clique. The eight of us ended up splitting into four pairs, based on hometowns or whether we came from the agency’s idol training school or the open audition.
“You’re early today.”
“School ended early, so I was able to get here around this time.”
By the way, Nozomi-chan is a genuine ojousama—an heiress of the Nanazawa Group, a massive conglomerate in this country. Some of their subsidiaries even use our agency’s talents, including Sistema Solare idols, for commercials and ads. Naturally, there was no way she’d be rejected at the audition. Her special treatment was obvious, so it’s no surprise that some of our peers have mixed feelings about her.
“What’s your schedule today, Mikuri-chan?”
“Voice training first, then physical conditioning.”
“Really!? Then let’s go together!”
Chatting with her dazzling smile, we walk down the quiet hallway toward the elevator, heading for the women’s locker room floor.
“Four months until debut… Days like this just keep coming.”
“Physical conditioning is a bit—no, really—tough.”
The relentless lessons leave us drained, and the fatigue builds day after day. We exchange quiet complaints as we reach the locker room, scanning our barcodes to unlock the door. Inside, partitions block the view. We navigate around them to the locker area, where a woman is in the middle of changing. She turns to face us.
“Good afternoon!” we say in unison.
“Afternoon, you two.”
Her name is Shion Owada.
She’s another sixth-generation trainee who passed the same audition. A second-year high schooler, the oldest among us, she’s often pushed into a leader-like role. Being from the agency’s idol training school probably adds to that. She’s a bit of a hard-luck case, having tried multiple times for Shisu-Solare auditions before finally passing this time. She’s a decently pretty girl with semi-long black hair and an average build, but she lacks a certain spark.
“What’s your schedule today, Owada-san?” Nozomi asks, using a more polite tone than she does with me. She’s naturally polite, but she’s gotten more casual around me since we became close.
“Voice training, then physical conditioning. Haven’t decided whether I’ll do dance or gym afterward.”
“Same as us, then. Let’s go together.”
“Sure. Hurry up and change, you two.”
“Got it.”
“Okay.”
Nozomi and I use adjacent lockers to change. It’s just athletic wear, so it doesn’t take long, but I catch her glancing at me now and then.
“Something wrong, Nozomi-chan?”
“Huh!? N-No, nothing!”
“Alright. Hurry up, or we’ll be late.”
“Y-Yeah.”
Shion waits for us, looking a bit irritated. To someone like her, who trained seriously at the idol school, Nozomi and I probably come across as girls who got in with talent alone and don’t take it seriously enough.
“No forgotten items… All good.”
“Sorry for the wait.”
“Alright, let’s go.”
We leave the locker room, the door auto-locking behind us. With Shion in the lead, we silently head for the soundproof voice training room on the next floor, taking the stairs. As we walk through the nondescript hallway, a woman steps out of a break room.
“Chimi-chan…” Shion murmurs softly.
The woman turns, and I recognize her—a stunningly beautiful girl often seen on TV.