Arc-2 Ep-14

 December.

For Sistema Solare, two major events define the month.

First: the long-running New Year’s Eve music show. That one has nothing to do with us sixth-gen members.

Sistema Solare gets selected, but only the nine from the internal unit perform.

At best, members from Dwarf Planet or Seven Satellite might appear as backup dancers.

For rookies like us—the nickname-less and low-ranked—it’s a complete non-event. What does matter, though, is the Sistema Solare full-group concert.

Held in early to mid-December, it’s the biggest event of the year, featuring all forty-eight members. This year, two shows: Saturday the 4th (night) and Sunday the 5th (day)—both running over three hours.

With forty-eight idols, that’s the only way to ensure everyone gets at least some stage time. For us sixth-gen, it’s just one exclusive song. Minimal stage exposure. We appear in the opening and ending (with all members), plus one mid-show number and a brief talk segment.

It’s exactly the same amount of time fifth-gen had last year—no reason to complain. Even the low-poll seniors who join us for mini-lives only get four songs total: the opening, the ending, their gen-exclusive track, and one for the nickname-less team.

There are more songs overall, sure, but since there are two nickname-less teams with low popularity, some songs get cut. Meanwhile, internal Sistema Solare members take up roughly half the entire runtime. Next year, I’ll be among them—so I’m watching carefully as preparation.

For now, sixth-gen’s focus is simple: nail the opening and the ending. We’ve learned the vocals and choreography in lessons—but our level’s still far from perfect.

December 3rd, Friday.

I was at the arena for the full concert. Maximum capacity: eleven thousand. Due to equipment, only about ten thousand seats are sold. I’d received two staff tickets, which I gave to my family. Saturday: my parents and middle brother.

Sunday: parents again, with my youngest brother.

My eldest brother had work both days—he looked like he could cry blood out of frustration. Next year, though, I’ll have more stage time. It’ll be worth his wait.

Today was the full rehearsal—starting from the very beginning. For sixth-gen, that meant opening, ending, one mid-song, and the talk segment.

A light workload, technically. Except for me, everyone in the waiting room was tense as a wire.

“Everyone’s super nervous.”

“O-Obviously!”

“Kayanuma-san’s still calm as ever…”

Leader Shion-san and vice-leader Sayaka-san’s faces were frozen stiff with anxiety. If they’d been this nervous since yesterday, what about tomorrow?

“The opening and ending have us on the edges anyway—mistakes won’t stand out much.”

“Even so! Just thinking ‘what if I mess up’ is terrifying!”

“Not standing out feels kinda sad too~”

There was no fixing anyone’s nerves now. Only experience could build that confidence.

“Use today’s rehearsal to get used to it.”

“Not happening.”

“M-My stomach hurts…”

Seriously… will they be okay? Today’s rehearsal wasn’t for actual singing or dancing. Management assumed we’d already learned that during lessons. The purpose was to confirm the full flow—entrances, timing, transitions.

We changed into standard practice wear, left the waiting room, and headed toward the stage. As the newest generation, sixth-gen was ordered by Taneyama-san to go onstage first.

Onstage, marks for the opening set pieces were taped across the floor. Beyond that, rows of empty seats stretched into the distance, save for a few staff sitting up front.

“This’ll all be packed with fans tomorrow…”

“When you think about it… kinda insane.”

Sakiko-san and Sayaka-san’s quiet murmurs carried through the space. Each of us gazed out at the seats, lost in our own thoughts. We were reaffirming what kind of group we’d joined—a group that could fill an arena.

“This is bad… now I’m really nervous~”

“Now, Yuna-san?”

“Good thing we can’t see much from here…”

“Naive. Once the lights go down, fans’ll have penlights. It’ll look completely different.”

Tomorrow, when the curtain rises—we’ll see that view from the stage. If the lights make the crowd hard to see, maybe it’ll ease the nerves a little.

“…Sixth-gen’s already here.”

“Morning.”

“““Morning!”””

Soon, the nickname-less mini-live seniors arrived.

We greeted them politely—no need to stir friction—and moved to our assigned spots. We’d be standing even further to the sides than in the mini-lives, but that was fine. We’d give it our all, for next year’s popularity poll.

“Morning, Mikuri-chan♪”

“N-Ngh! G-Good morning, Wakisaka-san!”

While waiting for our cue, I was quietly looping the opening lyrics and choreography in my head—when someone called out to me.

I turned—and saw Sistema Solare’s seductive ace, the gravure idol Erika Wakisaka, smiling my way.

“Been a while.”

“Yeah. We’ve only passed each other in the halls lately.”

About three months ago, I’d met her by chance in a practice room—and been blessed by her… presence. That was our first real interaction.

“How’s it going? Nervous?”

“I’m fine.”

A sexy senior idol worrying about me—who wouldn’t feel their heart skip? After Nozomi-chan and Rina-san, Erika-san was another senior I genuinely liked.

“Good to hear. The other sixth-gen girls look wrecked, though.”

“Yeah. But tomorrow, they’ll probably pull through once they’re onstage.”

Or maybe they’d freeze under pressure—bomb Saturday, then carry the nerves into Sunday.

“Hope so. See you around.”

“Yes.”

Erika-san gave a wink and a teasing smile before heading off to her position. She really was the embodiment of a seductive older sister.

If I were a guy, I’d definitely want to get closer to her.