Chapter Text
Five years.
Five years since the third-years graduated, μ's disbanded, and the nine girls went their separate ways. The legendary school idol group was no more, and the members went on with their lives.
Yazawa Nico had become the super idol she always dreamed of. As it turns out, the professional idol industry was more taxing than expected, and had quite the appetite for her free time — but, there was nothing else she’d rather do. She poured her heart and soul into her job, finding her purpose in spreading smiles around the world.
Admittedly, most of the girls had long fallen out of touch, close friends turning again into strangers. Nico couldn’t recall the last time she had spoken to the members, the group chat growing cold after Honoka’s desperate attempts to reach out eventually fizzled out. The third-years stopped visited the school, work consumed their schedules, and texts went unanswered.
But that was life, after all, and Nico didn’t let it bother her. It was unrealistic trying to stitch the lost group back together — after all, μ's was over. As much as her heart ached to see them again (a particular face flashed through her mind, with the tightening of her chest), it was an idea too ambitious to actually work out.
That’s what Nico thought, but life had other plans. It was handed to her on a silver platter — the offer of a lifetime.
A μ's reunion concert.
When her manager told her the news over the phone, Nico was sceptical. Every year, rumours of such an event circulated, and as the most prominent μ's member in the industry, it was always Nico shooting them down. Interview after interview, questions pertaining to μ's were met with disdain, not because she resented her high school friends but because she didn’t want to be confined. She was more than a member of μ’s — she was Yazawa Nico.
But this time, the offer was real. The longer she listened to his monotonous voice, the deeper the reality sunk in. Her initial doubt subsided, replaced by a thickening knot of dread. The crazy bastards were actually organising a μ's reunion concert.
Surprisingly, he explained, the offer had reached Nico last. Seven of the other members had already agreed, with one awaiting a response.
“Wait, the girls wanna do it? You serious?” Nico asked with revitalised interest.
“It appears so,” replied he. “Please give it some thought.”
Knowing the sentimentality of the other girls (unless they had grown out of their old habits), the concert wouldn’t commence unless all nine were present. So, with a reluctant groan, Nico agreed to participate. A couple of days later the final approval was received, and thus, the project was green-lit.
Preparations were to commence.
It didn’t seem real at first. Nico practised their old choreography with unexpected ease, her muscles remembering the routines better than anticipated. The reality of the situation only hit her once she was in a taxi, headed towards their first group rehearsal, riddled with anxiety.
Nico had filled stadiums, sang for millions, recorded endless interviews and shows — and yet, nothing compared to the pinching in her throat and the suffocating twist in her stomach that day. Nausea so strong it stung had her in its grasp. She could barely sit still.
The taxi shuddered to a stop, rattling Nico’s stomach and threatening to spill her lunch all over the backseat — luckily, she swallowed it down, and clambered out of the vehicle. She was shaky on her knees and the dance studio, though of modest size, seemed to tower over her.
Hoping her puffed out chest would make up for her lack of confidence, Nico entered the building. She had been here once before but could not recall when. Thankful for the distant familiarity, her legs carried her down the never-ending hallways until she saw the double-door entrance of a certain dance room. Her footsteps pattered out as she came to a stop and everything went silent, even her breath subconsciously shushing.
Five years. What did everyone look like now?
With a quick prayer and a strained smile, Nico pushed through the doors.
A bright and blinding spotlight greeted Nico as she entered — pairs of white eyes glanced up, all painted with a similar shock. She couldn’t look at any of them directly. Whatever she planned to say didn’t come out and instead, her idol instincts kicked in, and she gave a polite bow, muttering some professional greeting.
“Nico-chan!” Her daze was shattered by a voice calling out, and then moments later, a pair of arms squeezing tight around her. Nico was already short of air and felt her organs would come out at any moment — she squirmed to no avail, and lifted her head to see the ex-leader of μ’s.
Kousaka Honoka. Though she wasn’t as popular as Nico, she too had become an idol after graduation. Her youthful spirit had persisted through the years, for her smile was still bright and blinding. “It’s so good to see you! I mean, I see you in posters and stuff all the time, but in real life!” she said.
“Thanks,” Nico laughed. “Same to you.”
Scanning the room from left to right, Nico counted one, two, three… only eight girls, including herself. One was missing. It was immediately obvious who it was, but Nico chose not to dwell on it and instead drifted between everyone, giving each a polite hello.
It was a strange comfort, being in the presence of her old friends, despite everyone’s changed looks. Some kept a similar appearance like Umi, Hanayo, and Eli. Kotori’s hair was in a ponytail, her outfit a little more sophisticated (and Nico guessed, more expensive). Rin and Honoka had grown their hair out, the latter’s reaching her mid-back, while Nozomi cut her hair to the shoulders.
“Nicocchi,” Nozomi called as they met eyes. “Long time no see. Still sporting those pigtails, hm?”
“Of course!” Nico huffed. “They’re my charm-point, after all.” Nozomi and Eli were still together it seemed (good for them), and Nico gave them both a quick squeeze.
“I’m sure Maki-chan will be here shortly,” Nozomi said. “Do you two talk much these days?”
There was a hot flash of panic. Maki. The name echoed in her mind, stirring something within her. She masked it with a weak smile, and it seemed, for the moment, to do the trick. “Not really.”
“A shame,” replied Nozomi.
Before either could work up a new conversation topic, a deep voice boomed from across the room. “I know we’re short a member,” Umi said, “but shall we begin rehearsing?”
There was a collective nod of agreement, and everyone slipped back into old habits like a well-fitted glove. The varying levels of experience and years of separation hadn’t totally severed their group coordination; it was impressive how flexible and focused everyone was. Nico wished all her collaborations went as smoothly as this.
After an hour of singing, dancing, and discussion, they took a short break. Several others were huffing and puffing and lying flat on the floor with exhaustion, while Nico was faring quite well. Staying in the idol business kept her in top-shape, her stamina was better than ever and realising this filled her with pride.
Nico wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and brought a water bottle to her lips, savouring the cool swish over her tongue. There was a blur of movement in the corner of her eye and as she turned to investigate, the doors flapped shut, and a figure stepped through. The voice reached her before she saw the face.
“Class ran late, sorry.” It had the gall to be deeper, sweeter, a little more sibilant and melodious than she recalled. It was obvious who the voice belonged to; it was etched deep within her memory and she’d sooner forget herself than its owner. “I’m here.”
It was, of course, Nishikino Maki. Just seeing her shot Nico back to her high school days. She saw herself standing in those long corridors of classrooms, on those fluttering spring days, with nothing on her mind but exams and practise.
Nico and Maki often butted heads back then, unable to agree on even trivial matters, but there was a freedom to be found in their bickering. Nico didn’t hate her, if anything, it was the opposite — there was something striking about Maki, and this uncomfortable fascination drew them closer, like a pair of magnets. She longed to know more, be with her more, see her more.
Nico had always loved her sharp, violet eyes, steady as the ocean. When Maki played the piano, they lit up like gemstones; her wealth of passion coursed through her veins to the very tips of her fingers and flooded into her music. Her compositions were not for the ears but for the heart, and time and time again, Nico found herself in awe of how one girl could hold so much talent.
Nico had admired Maki, perhaps even loved her, but never acted on her feelings. Despite the signs of reciprocation and the silent agreement that something was there, one wrong step would taint their friendship and, consequently, the future of μ’s. It was too big of a risk — and so, she left her feelings to quietly wither.
At least, she thought they did. Maki instead became a stain on her glass heart, something she could never quite wipe away. And now that they were standing face to face, Nico felt her heartbeat rising in her throat, echoing in her ears, swallowing her whole.
Time had been awfully kind to Maki. If she was pretty in high school, she was beautiful now; she had grown into her sharp facial features and developed a shapely figure that Nico was equally jealous and in awe of. Her posture was that of a soldier, controlled and refined, though her strides were graceful and feminine. Somewhere over the years she had won her battle with timidness, and now she wore her confidence like a badge — and Nico couldn’t help but stare, for it looked so good on her.
Her hair had grown a little. It was tied over her shoulder in a puffy, wavy ponytail. With those gorgeous, slender fingers and trimmed nails, Nico wondered if she still played the piano, and if so, how her compositions sounded now, polished with time and practise. Perhaps they had become just as breath-taking as the sight of Maki herself.
Cold sweats, clammy hands, everything began to resurface and that frightened her. Nico crammed her feelings down her throat before they leaked onto her face, pried her eyes away after realising she’d been staring a moment too long. She tried to focus on everything but Maki — emptied her water bottle, stretched a little, checked her phone.
There was no ignoring her when Maki finally approached. As Nico glanced up, they wore matching, polite smiles.
“Nico, hey,” said Maki. As the two shared a brief hug, Nico caught an unexpected whiff of delicate perfume. “You’re the same as ever, I see.”
There was a stranger in that familiar voice. Nico barely knew the person Maki had become and found her expression unreadable. Her tone wasn’t bitter, and yet, something rubbed Nico the wrong way. Since Maki had changed so much, was Nico’s stagnancy something to be ashamed of? Was this a remnant of their playful past or was it a compliment?
Her heart twisted and churned out too many thoughts, and in the end, Nico couldn’t bottle her frustration. Nico spat the words a little too harshly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Maki shook her head, her smile remaining undisturbed. “It’s good to see you.” And she turned and vanished as suddenly as she had appeared.
She was gone — across the room, and yet even when miles separated them, she had never felt so out of reach. Nico sighed. She let her walk away without a single shred of honesty; no compliments on how good Maki looked now, or how good it was to see her as well. She barely said anything at all.
Maybe she truly hadn’t changed.
Nico slapped her cheeks, pushing the bitterness away. There was a rehearsal, a concert to focus on — nothing else mattered.
The rehearsal carried on without incident. It was difficult, Nico admitted, to focus after Maki arrived. Her eyes naturally seemed to trail her in the mirror instead of focusing on herself, and her chest fluttered whenever Maki sang.
She was always a great singer but Maki’s voice had developed considerably. Powerful, agile and present, whilst maintaining her signature nasality. She had a charming, brilliant tone, and for a flicker of a moment, Nico was frustrated by its perfection. As her envy cooled, it morphed into adoration, and then determination.
Nico wouldn’t be bested.
Vocals weren’t her strength but dancing definitely was — the more Nico focused on choreography, the more comfortable she felt. Compared to Maki whose movements always leaned to the reserved side, Nico burst with commitment; as a leaf drifted through the wind, dancing, to her, was effortless. It was second-nature.
She was finally getting back into the groove when that song approached — “Zurui Yo Magnetic Today.” Everyone dispersed to the outer walls, leaving Nico and Maki in the centre of the room. They glanced at each other. Thankfully, there was no tension between them, and Nico was too concentrated on the practice to dwell on their previous exchange.
“Been a while sing we’ve sung this one, huh?” Nico tried to drown her nerves with small-talk.
“Yeah,” Maki said. “Forgive me if I’m out of practice.”
It was difficult singing about the very feelings Nico was trying to drown out — she cursed their past selves for writing about their romance so well. To draw upon her infatuation for the sake of the performance whilst hiding her genuine feelings was a tricky balance. She didn’t want anyone, especially the perceptive Nozomi (or, god forbid, Maki herself), asking questions.
The mid-song bickering, staring into each other’s eyes, singing in unison — Nico’s chest tightened during all of it, but eventually, the final chords of the song rang out. There was a pattering applause, the two high-fived, and Nico couldn’t help but feel she had gotten away with something she shouldn’t have.
Maki collapsed to the floor, flooded with relief. Nico should’ve been well-acquainted with the sight by now, but it still gave her butterflies, seeing Maki so hot and exhausted. The way her red hair stuck to her forehead, her eyes became glossy, her breath puffed out, thick and heavy. A warmth brewed deep in Nico’s stomach, and then, the corners of her lips perked into a grin.
Nico strode over. “Not very active these days?”
“Shut up,” Maki said. “I haven’t danced like this in a long time.”
Nico offered Maki a hand to stand, and it was taken without a moment’s hesitation.
It was a foolish mistake, Nico realised, for as soon as their hands came together, she wished for them to never part. Her silent wish appeared to be heard as Maki lingered in her grasp. Their eyes caught each other for a moment too long, both outright refusing to pull away. It was an ephemeral moment and Nico wondered if it had happened at all or if she had imagined it, but in that brief instant, they exchanged thousands of unsaid words.
Maki’s gaze was incredible — intimidating and inviting all at once, Nico feared if she glanced away even for a second, she would regret it. There was a flicker of wonder, of longing; something was stirring within Maki’s heart. Deeper in her eyes, there was a raging fire that thrashed about, begging to be let loose; an emotion so raw even the composed Maki struggled to keep under control. It was an unexpected visitor, and it’s appearance only piqued Nico’s interest.
In comparison, Nico’s feelings didn’t seem so taboo. Hope rose in her chest and, like a stray dog, her imagination was finally let loose. Was Maki feeling the same? Were they both digging up emotions thought to have been buried long ago? Could they make up for all their lost time?
It seemed too good to be true. Nico pulled away with tingling fingertips and a dry mouth. Whatever that fire was, whatever Maki was feeling, Nico wondered what she could do to lure it out. She wanted to confront it, to embrace it, ugliness and all.
Her lips twisted into a smile. An undeniable connection had been drawn between them.
And suddenly, Nico felt a lot more excited about the concert.