"Kei, what do you think about idols? Or rather, what kind of existence do you think idols are?"
It was a casual question Kitagawa Ryo asked during a late night working on the script with Karuizawa Kei.
"Hmm."
Kei thought for a moment before answering:
"They're dazzling. People who make others look up to them."
"And if you start supporting an idol from the very beginning, there's a sort of 'growth' feel to it. Watching them slowly climb their way to bigger and bigger stages through effort... it kind of feels like your own dreams are coming true too."
"So idols are a projection of the audience?"
"Mmm, I wouldn't go that far. It's just that we're used to projecting our preferences and emotions onto the stage."
"If you look at it from a more pessimistic angle, idols are kind of pitiful, even tragic figures."
"But isn't that how it goes for all performers on stage in the end? That's why the journey matters the most."
It seemed that Kei was recalling something from her own life.
"As long as you can convey what's in your heart, that's the best kind of performance."
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"Thank you all for coming today! Please get home safely."
"Thanks for your hard work!"
"There will be a bonus event afterward. If you've purchased a bonus item or won a photo ticket, please line up and wait just a bit."
After the concert ended, the venue buzzed with noise. Fans of different ages and backgrounds left in high spirits, sharing the same excitement. It didn't matter if they knew each other before; everyone there was connected by the same thread. Every word about her became a topic shared by all.
Kitagawa Ryo, holding the "End of Line" sign, quickly drew attention. Not because people recognized him—he was wearing a hood and mask, thoroughly hiding his face. Besides, the overlap between theatergoers and idol fans should be quite low.
But Ryo quickly realized why he stood out.
The problem was his clothes.
Unlike the others who had spent big on bonus events or photo tickets and were clearly hardcore fans, Ryo was wearing a plain white shirt.
Everyone else in line ahead of him wore exclusive support shirts with hand-drawn art by Shizuku herself. In this tightly-knit group, Ryo in a plain shirt was like a black swan among white ones—far too conspicuous. He could even hear whispers around him, speculating whether he was a fan of a rival idol coming to stir up trouble.
If he made even one suspicious move, justice-fueled fans might rush in.
The truth was simple: he had lost his only limited-edition support shirt.
Ryo sighed deeply.
Normally, if you didn't have the exclusive version, wearing the regular support shirt would do. He had considered it, but abandoned the idea quickly.
Sakayanagi Arisu had once mocked the ugly, random patterns on those shirts, appalled they could sell for 20,000 yen. She'd also laughed at Ryo for wearing one drenched in pink and white.
But—
When he saw the phrase "Shizuku-chan, Forever My Oshi" written boldly in brush calligraphy on the regular shirt, Ryo finally made peace with his past.
So he wore a simple white shirt and came.
Partly to have something fun to share with Hotaru during their next video call.
Partly to talk, after all this time, with Shizuku—no, with Sakura Airi.
Lost in thought, Ryo waited for the line to move. Since he was last and the venue policy required attendees to leave quickly after their turn, by the time it was Ryo's turn, the hall was empty.
Except for her.
His idol, smiling brightly at him.
Perhaps influenced by Horikita Suzune's simulation, Ryo's eyes instinctively went to her hairstyle.
Her pinkish-red hair fell gently but was styled into two high pigtails above her ears, giving a lively, cheerful impression.
He remembered the first time he met Sakura Airi—she wore low pigtails that rested just beneath her ears.
So, hairstyles really did reflect someone's state of mind.
Horikita Manabu-senpai, your insight was spot on.
"Ryo!"
"Thanks so much for coming again today!"
"Yeah."
Ryo took off his mask and lowered his hood.
"Your performance was amazing."
Looking directly into his dark eyes, Sakura Airi suddenly recalled a line she had learned during her time interning at the theater:
"He is the courtier's eye, the scholar's tongue, the soldier's sword, the flower of all humanity, the mirror of fashion, the mold of form, the observed of all observers."
It was Ophelia's praise for Hamlet—but also how she felt about Kitagawa Ryo, the one who had once played Hamlet.
"I saw you during the show, Ryo! I even did a special gesture just for you. Did you notice?"
She leaned in slightly. Her outfit was a red-and-white themed idol costume. The skirt reached just above her knees, and white thigh-high socks hugged her calves snugly, with a faint indent just below the knee where they met her skin.
"I did."
Ryo nodded. It was a heart gesture—and she had even winked.
"You seem kinda out of it today, Ryo."
"Just been staying up late writing scripts."
"Back then, after every concert, you'd always talk to me for hours about what I did well or what I could improve."
"Maybe it's because you're already the perfect idol now."
Airi squinted with a smile at that, then quickly noticed his clothes.
"You're not wearing a support shirt today?"
Her energy visibly dropped. Even the ahoge on her head drooped.
"Did you switch to another idol?"
"You know I'm not that into the idol world. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't even be here."
Ryo shook his head.
"It was just an accident. I lost my support shirt."
"That can't be helped..."
Airi pressed a finger to her chin and thought for a moment. Then she turned to her manager.
"Hinata-san, can you grab that thing for me?"
The woman called Hinata sighed as she rummaged through a box and pulled out a new support shirt still sealed in plastic. Airi handed it to Ryo.
"I had a few extras prepared for staff. It hasn't been opened. If you don't mind, please take it."
"Some fans were eyeing you earlier because of that shirt situation."
"Want to try it on and see if it fits?"
Before Ryo could respond, Airi had already opened the package and was holding the shirt up against his chest.
"Alright."
Ryo couldn't exactly refuse such straightforward kindness. Compared to the regular version, this limited-edition shirt didn't look nearly as tacky as he remembered.
Since it was already May and he only had a thin dress shirt on, he casually slipped the support shirt over it. It felt a little snug, but it would do.
"Fits perfectly."
Airi walked in a circle around him and nodded in satisfaction. Then she picked up a permanent marker.
Limited-edition support shirts were so expensive because they came with the idol's autograph.
But Ryo hadn't brought anything to sign—no paper, postcards, or posters.
After a moment of hesitation, Airi said,
"Want me to sign directly on the shirt?"
She giggled.
"That way you won't lose it again."
"Do what you want."
Ryo was just about to take the shirt off when she stepped in.
"Don't move."
Airi pressed her left hand against his chest and used the marker in her right to sign on the fabric right above his heart.
The rough tip of the pen tickled slightly through the shirt. The scent of her perfume and the warmth of her palm made Ryo freeze in place.
"To: Ryo — Shizuku"
"Please continue supporting me from now on, too!"
Finishing, Airi looked up and gave him an energetic wave.
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"Please continue supporting me from now on, too."
Kitagawa Ryo gazed at the girl in front of him who looked to be about his age. At first glance, he hadn't thought she had the presence or talent to stand on stage.
Noticing his stare, the girl shrank back a little.
She was afraid of human contact.
Afraid to look others in the eye when speaking.
Afraid to be where people gathered.
Sakura Airi had only been in the troupe for less than a week, and the other members had already come to the same conclusion about her.
Shyness wasn't inherently bad, but her social anxiety was so strong that even basic communication was a struggle. For an actor whose life revolved around performing, that was a fatal flaw.
So this was why the troupe leader had placed this girl with him?
Kitagawa Ryo crouched down and locked eyes with her. No matter how she tried to evade or shift her gaze, he followed.
Sakura Airi never closed her eyes, even though she refused to meet his gaze.
That was all the proof he needed.
Ryo stood up, satisfied. Unlike the others, he had drawn the opposite conclusion.
Sakura Airi did have the ability to shine on stage—it just might not be in theater.
Later, with Karuizawa Kei's help, they helped Airi overcome her insecurities about her figure. Through that process, Ryo gradually came to understand her true nature.
Patience and sweets were the key.
Despite being shy and withdrawn, Airi longed for someone to connect with her.
She wanted to express her emotions.
She wanted others to feel something positive because of her.
That's a vital trait for any performer.
So when Airi later declared she wanted to become a gravure idol, Ryo wasn't surprised. He remembered that in Karuizawa Kei's simulation, Airi had also chosen that path.
Choosing to hide behind a cheerful online persona, in contrast to her silent reality, was a form of escapism.
A harsh, blunt kind.
Swimsuits, cosplay, outfits with suggestive undertones—she planned to upload cute photos for attention.
Out of respect, she told Ryo her intentions beforehand.
It might've sounded ridiculous.
But to Sakura Airi, it made perfect sense. It was the only thing she had, the only thing she felt proud of.
"If even one fan smiles because of me, that's enough. Even if a hundred criticize me, that one smile makes it worth it."
That was how she explained her choice.
"Then why not try becoming a real idol?"
Ryo countered.
Startled, Airi waved her hands in denial.
"Impossible... I don't have that kind of talent."
Unlike a gravure idol, an on-stage idol needed to dance and sing before a crowd. Airi couldn't even imagine herself doing that.
Just picturing it made her dizzy.
Even watching Ryo perform from the audience used to intimidate her.
"Try it. I believe you can do it, Airi."
And so, Ryo offered her his hand:
"From today on, give up theater. Try becoming an idol instead."
From that night on, Airi stopped rehearsing meaningless plays and, with Ryo's guidance, started learning how to sing, how to dance, and most importantly—how to face an audience.
Many nights followed where it was just the two of them rehearsing in an empty theater. She stood on stage. He sat in the front row as her only spectator.
It was like their own little world.
Ryo created a small stage just for her. He brought in the first light, and walked with her as she took her first step forward.
Airi had surprising talent for singing, but in the beginning, she couldn't raise her head when she sang.
So Ryo brought glowsticks.
He even practiced fan chants.
Every time Airi started to sing, he clapped in rhythm and waved his glowsticks from the front row.
Thankfully, there's no video evidence of that dark past.
Because she wanted to see his usual stern face doing fan chants, Airi gradually learned to sing with her head held high, looking out toward the audience.
From one spectator, they became two—Karuizawa Kei discovered their secret practice and insisted on joining.
She said she was Airi's friend, and of course she'd help however she could.
Under Ryo's direction, more and more people showed up. Actors, stagehands, even the troupe leader eventually came.
But Ryo always sat in the front row, leading the tempo with his glowsticks.
Still, Airi knew he wasn't her fan.
He was helping her simply as a friend.
The night she left the troupe, Airi spoke to the moon, pouring out her heart to the silent sky.
Someday, in my career as an idol, I want to fulfill a dream.
I want to become Ryo's one and only oshi—the one he truly supports the most.
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