Arc-1 Ep-10
Mid-May, after Golden Week has ended. Today, as usual, I’m at the agency for lessons. The session is vocal training, meant to be with the three other trainees in my cohort, making a group of four.
Or at least, that’s how it was supposed to be…
“Hmm… Kayanuma’s standing out way too much.”
“I-Is that so…?”
It seems my level is so far above the other three that the trainer in charge is struggling to adjust the lesson content. Who would’ve thought that the cheat-like abilities granted by a god would backfire like this?
“For now, Kayanuma, you’re excused from vocal training for a bit.”
“…Is that okay?”
“I’m the one deciding, so it’s fine. Just wait until the others catch up a bit.”
“U-Understood.”
“In the meantime… work on your own training. I hear you’re lacking in stamina, so focus on building that up.”
“Yes, mam.”
“It’ll affect your voice and singing too, you know.”
“Got it… May I leave the room?”
“Yeah. Alright, the rest of you three—”
Bowing to the trainer as he resumes instructing the remaining trainees, I step out of the room. Now, what should I do next?
“…Guess I’ll review some dance moves.”
With that decided, I head to the general affairs department on another floor. Hopefully, there’s still an empty practice room available.
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“…Wow, this place is really cramped.”
When I asked a staff member in general affairs, they told me there was only one practice room left. They warned me it was so small it could barely fit four people, but I got permission to use it anyway. After getting ready, I head over to the practice room. I scan the barcode on the card that serves as the key, open the door, and step inside, immediately struck by how tiny the space is. It must’ve been repurposed from a storage room or something.
“No way four people could dance in here. Good thing it’s just me.”
Muttering to myself, I connect my smartphone to the practice room’s speakers. Then I scroll through my phone and play a specific track. It’s a new release from Sistema Solare.
For practice, the eight sixth-generation trainee candidates, including me, are learning the choreography for one part of the song. Since we’re all doing the same routine, it’s easy to spot differences in performance. According to the dance trainer, if you can’t perform the choreography at a certain level, you might end up stuck as a trainee forever.
For me, dancing itself isn’t the problem. In fact, the trainers have praised my skill. The issue is stamina—over time, my performance drops, and that’s been pointed out as my weakness. I’ve improved compared to before, but the trainer still says it’s not enough.
“Alright, let’s practice.”
I set the song on loop and start moving, checking my form in the wall-length mirror. Imagining a future where I get to meet and befriend charming idols and other entertainers, I focus on the choreography and keep dancing.
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“Phew… Time for a break…”
After three loops of the song—about fifteen minutes—I’m out of breath and sweating buckets, so I pause.
“It’s hot… Gulp gulp. Phew.”
I drink the mineral water I brought, replenishing the fluids I’ve lost. Before, dancing this much would’ve left me completely drained, but now I can at least finish with a decent performance. Of course, in a real show, I’d need to sing while dancing, so I know I still have a long way to go.
“Huff… Puff… Hmm?”
As I’m catching my breath with deep breaths, I hear the sound of the door unlocking. It should be obvious the room’s occupied, but the door opens and someone steps inside.
“Oh, sorry about that!”
“Ah! Wakizaka-san!”
Erika Wakizaka.
A second-generation member of the main group Sistema Solare. She’s a popular member who turned twenty this year.
In the first popularity poll, she ranked sixth, earning the nickname “Jupiter,” and she’s consistently stayed in the top nine across all three polls so far. She’s a true beauty, especially known for her stunning figure, and is considered one of the sexiest members of Sistema Solare.
She’s also popular as a gravure idol, appearing in bikini spreads for manga and young men’s magazines, stirring the desires of countless fans. And now, this very woman, casually dressed, is smiling at me.
“W-What’s up!?”
“Oh, you’re using this room, so… you must be Mikuri Kayanuma-chan?”
“Y-Yes! I’m Mikuri Kayanuma, a sixth-generation trainee candidate. Nice to meet you!”
“Nice to meet you too. You probably already know, but I’m Erika Wakizaka, second generation.”
She responds to my greeting with a friendly smile. Unlike my previous encounter with Tomomi Uchikawa in the hallway, her attitude is warm and leaves a wonderful impression.
“Yes. So, um…”
“Right. I wanted to practice something and asked Yamamoto-san about it.”
Yamamoto-san is the general affairs staff member who gave me permission to use this room. Either way, if she wants to use this space, as a mere trainee, I have no choice but to yield.
“Understood. Then I’ll—”
“No, no! That’s not what I meant. I want to practice the song that’s playing right now.”
Oh, right—I’d left the new track playing.
“Yamamoto-san said you were practicing the new song, so I thought maybe we could practice together?”
I remember mentioning that to the general affairs staff.
“Y-Yes! I’d be honored!”
“Thanks. Alright, shall we practice together?”
Once she’s ready, she starts dancing as the song loops back to the beginning. I resume practicing the choreography for a different member’s part.
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“Huff… Puff… Ha…”
After two more loops of the song, I reach my limit. I can’t help but feel pathetic for my lack of stamina.
“Ha! Nn! Hn!”
Erika-san is concentrating on the choreography without singing along. I’d heard within the group that dancing was one of her weaker skills, and it does seem to be true. Well, I can kind of see why. My gaze is being drawn to something that’s probably the reason.
“Fu! Nn, nnh!”
It’s her chest, bouncing dramatically with every move. In other words—her breasts. Erika-san’s bust size is officially listed as 92 cm, F-cup. And as she dances, they move in ways that are almost indescribable. As a guy at heart, my eyes are naturally pulled toward them.
'Man, that’s something else.'
While staring at her intensely dancing chest, the song ends, and Erika-san stops. As the track starts over, she wipes away sweat, breathing heavily, and heads toward her bag on the floor.
“Huff huff… Nn… Ha…”
She grabs a plastic bottle from her bag, clearly taking a break. After a sip to hydrate, she speaks to me.
“Nn… Phew… Mikuri-chan, you good on time?”
“Time? …Oh! It’s already that late!?”
Her words make me glance at the clock—it’s almost time for the vocal training session to end. I’m supposed to head to the gym next for stamina training, so I need to get moving.
“S-Sorry! I have to go…”
“Got it. I’ll use the room then.”
“Y-Yes. I’ll let Yamamoto-san know. Excuse me!”
“Sure. Keep it up!”
I hurriedly disconnect my phone from the speakers and gather my things.
After saying goodbye to Erika-san, I scan my card and rush out of the room. If I had more time, I would’ve loved to rest and chat with her, but there’s no helping it. It was a chance to get closer to a captivating older beauty, but I tell myself there’ll be other opportunities and let it go.