Arc-2 Ep-03

 『Hexagram × Octagon』

In Japanese, that would be Rokubōsei to Hakkakkei—a hexagram and an octagon. To be blunt, there’s no real connection between the title and the lyrics. It was simply chosen to match the numbers six and eight—representing us eight sixth-gen members.

The overall manager named it herself, saying it was easy to understand as our exclusive song. All of us sixth-gen members agreed on one thing: don’t expect too much from her naming sense.

First, we moved into our starting formation. From above, it looked like a V-shape with the tip missing. Four in a row, with me —Mikuri Kayanuma—and Nanazawa Nozomi standing at the front.

Behind me were Shion Owada, Yuna Kanaya, and Sakiko Furusawa , in that order.

Behind Nozomi-chan stood Sayaka Matsunobe, Mami Ichihara, and Chie Sekiguchi.

After holding the formation for a few seconds, the now-familiar intro began playing, and the audience’s energy immediately skyrocketed.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of my three brothers in the VIP seats going wild. Their over-the-top cheering triggered a deep wave of secondhand embarrassment.

But there was no time to dwell on that. The song began with the duet part between me and Nozomi-chan. I glanced at her; our eyes met.

She looked nervous, so I gave her a small smile and a reassuring nod before bringing the mic in my right hand to my lips and—for the first time as an idol—began to sing. 

Roughly five minutes later, our first stage ended without any major problems. Sure, if you wanted to nitpick, there were probably a few rough spots.

But it was our debut—so whatever. The fans filling the seats were still shouting loudly, clearly not bored, so I’d call it a success.

“Haa… haa… That was the sixth generation’s first song performance. Thank you for listening.”

“““Thank you!!”””

We lined up horizontally at the end, bowing deeply after Shion-san’s closing words.

“That was amaaaazing!!”

“Mikuri-chan! Your singing was too good!!!”

“The dancing was incredible!! Sakiko-chaaan!!”

The sheer volume and enthusiasm of the cheers brought bright smiles to my gen-mates’ faces as they lifted their heads. Since the song gave each sixth-gen member a chance to shine, the families in the VIP seats were probably satisfied too.

“Thank you!! …Well, that wraps up the sixth generation’s part, but please enjoy the seniors’ stages♪”

“Come again♪ Thank you!”

“See you tomorrow!! Bye-bye♪”

As my gen-mates waved to the packed venue, I waved both hands in an adorably charming way.

“Eeeeeh?!”

“We want more!!”

“Nozomi-chaaan!!”

Bathed in the audience’s cries of disappointment, we sixth-gen members waved as we disappeared into the wings.

“Good work, everyone.”

Backstage, Taneyama-san greeted us with words of praise.

“Thank you.”

“How was our stage, Taneyama-san?”

“For a first performance? Very solid.”

“Really? Phew~”

Feeling relieved, we watched as the overall manager’s eyes grew misty with affection.

“Alright, just the ending left. Until then, you can rest in the waiting room or watch from the wings.”

“Got it. What should I do?”

“Chie’s tired, so I’m resting.”

“I’m with the rest group too.”

Having passed the peak of tension, the others were clearly exhausted. As I wondered what to do, two seniors who weren’t performing approached.

“Shion, great job. The live was amazing.”

“Really? I’m so happy~”

“Matsunobe-san, congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

They were speaking to Shion-san and Sayaka-san, respectively. Probably acquaintances from the training center.

“I think I’ll head to the waiting room. Nozomi-chan, what about you?”

“Nozomi’s with Mikuri-chan.”

“Oh? Then let’s go.”

Having no particular acquaintances among the non-nickname seniors, I decided to rest my body in the waiting room. Nozomi-chan walked beside me, our shoulders brushing as we headed down the hall.

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“You did great, Mikuri.”

“You’re really an idol now.”

The mini-live ended, and after being dismissed, I was riding home in the car my dad was driving, together with my family. The entire drive was filled with talk about my first job as an idol—honestly, kind of embarrassing.

“I can brag about this at university.”

“Then I’ll do it at the office.”

“I’ll spread the gospel at my company too.”

My brothers—two working adults and one college student—were excitedly trading words back and forth.

“Handshake event tomorrow, huh.”

“I’d really prefer if you lined up for someone else’s queue, not mine.”

As expected, the idea of shaking hands with my own family as an idol felt weird.

“What, embarrassed?”

“Well, yeah, but also—if my line’s short while a gen-mate’s is long, it’d create this awkward atmosphere.”

“So you’re saying your line will be long?”

“…Honestly? I’m confident.”

Of course—with this level of cuteness, plus solid singing and dancing, plenty of people would line up for me. The only real competition I could see was Nozomi-chan—the heiress of a major corporate group.

“…Well, there’s the leader—Owada-san, was it? Lining up for her and saying ‘Take care of my daughter,’ might work.”

“Then I’ll go for the sub-leader…”

“Matsunobe’s the one.”

“I’m picking Nozomi-chan.”

“Hey, that’s unfair.”

“Hahaha!”

As the car neared home, laughter filled the interior. And so, Saturday—the day that marked the official start of my idol career—came to an end.