July 23rd, year 1

The girls were supposed to be working, but it was such a beautiful day, the indoor resort was so open and realistic, and the shoot over was so quickly that it soon dissolved into an outing at the beach. The others were playing by the water, while Miki stretched out on the sand and dozed. The Producer was sitting next to her.

"You know, Miki, you're the only person I know whose hair gets darker the more they're out in the sun," he said.

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's subtle, but you can tell around here especially," he pointed around the top of her head.

Miki sat up with a giggle. "Silly Producer! You don't know?"

"Know what?"

She flicked her hand away into a pistol shape. "Miki didn't get this way naturally! It's dyed."

The Producer's mouth was open for a second in silent realization. "Ha! I never would have guessed. It looks good on you."

"Doesn't it?" she said, flopping back onto the sand. "Miki'll have to redye it soon, though. It's such a hassle!"

He didn't say anything for a while. "Well, it's something you've got to work out, right?"

"Yeah..."

The other idols went back to the offices, but Miki had another job to do later in the afternoon. This one took a lot longer. By the time she was finished, her mood had soured considerably.

"Hey, cheer up," the Producer smiled at her as he held the door open. "We're all done!"

She pouted a little more before speaking. "Those guys were so mean to Miki! Being so bossy like that...Miki won't go back there again!"

"We can't really help it," the Producer sighed. "Try to bear it a little longer, okay?"

She crossed her arms with a huff, turning away.

"Hey! We'll walk back to the office, how's that? It's nice out, not too cold, and the sky's clear. Let's forget about this, okay?"

"...Okay."

Once away from the building complex, Miki forgot about the promotion quickly and returned to her cheerful self, stooping over puddles and examining the stars. She even found a stray cat and managed to coax it out from the shadows to play.

"We should get going, Miki, it's getting a little late..."

"But this kitty is so cute! Look!"

The Producer shifted between his feet for a moment before kneeling beside her.

"It is pretty cute."

"See? Miki said. And you didn't believe Miki!"

"That's not true..."

He stood to look at his watch. Then he looked around for a moment as if he was trying to realize something he'd forgotten.

A light was approaching.

"Miki -!"

There was a blaring sound. Miki looked up just in time to see the Producer shove her out of the way. Then he was covered up by an automobile.

"Producer-san!"

There was no answer. The cat had fled, but had scratched her before it ran away. She lifted her arm to look at the gashes, but she didn't feel any pain. There was just a heavy feeling in her throat and stomach.

The man driving the car got out and was shouting. After looking around the scene, he retreated into his car and made a call. Miki watched this, only barely realizing what it all meant. Crawling on her hands and knees, she found the Producer lying a ways away from the car. "Producer-san," she tried to say, but she could barely even hear herself. She tried again, but couldn't get any louder.

The Producer's eyes cracked open and he looked at her. He seemed very tired. "Hey," his voice was a croak. "Miki, hey..."

She leaned in, nodding desperately.

"Don't cry. Let's see a smile, okay?"

But it was only when he told her not to cry did the tears come.

Everyone at the hospital was friendly and patient, which only made Miki feel even more useless. They had taken care of her wound in a few minutes, but they wouldn't let her see the Producer until they had patched him up. It'll be done before the night is over, they kept telling her. They'd been telling her that for the past several lifetimes, it seemed. After a while she stopped asking and managed to get her crying under control. She watched the clock and tried to get her breathing evened out, but every few minutes she would sob and that would wreck her concentration. Finally, she closed her eyes and pretended to go to sleep.

"Miki, you're still here?"

Her eyes snapped open. The Producer was sitting across from her. A pair of crutches rested on the wall beside him.

"Help..."

He leaned in with a questioning noise.

"Can Miki be of any help..." she couldn't muster the volume to make that into a question.

The Producer clasped one of her hands, looking straight into her eyes as he spoke. "No, I'm fine. I'm going to be okay. It's not your fault, hey?"

Miki stared back, repeating those words in her mind to make sure to understand them. She felt her throat tingle, and her eyes stung again...

"Miki! Hey, it's gonna be alright. It's a minor fracture. Miki, I don't blame you."

She covered her face and wept. She knew crying at this point was stupid - she had just stopped a few minutes ago! but with him here, telling her that things were going to be okay...it just happened. She felt like an idiot. "Miki's sorry...Miki was..."

"Miki, listen," he was clenching her hand. With difficulty she lowered her arm enough to look back at him. "I need you to do something for me."

"Uh-huh..."

"I'm going to take some days off. I need you to tell the other girls I'm not going to show. Can I count on you to do that?"

She nodded and felt another wave of tears break.

"Shhh, it'll be fine. This is nothing. Take it easy next week, okay? You deserve it."

Miki did not feel like she deserved any comfort. The Producer left with a friend of his, and a few minutes later her parents came to pick her up. Her mother hugged her close and immediately began fussing with her hair. Miki felt even more useless than before, but even so, she couldn't bring herself to tell her mother to stop. She let herself be led to her room when they got home. Her mother kissed her forehead to wish her goodnight, and told her if she needed anything to shout or something, really it wouldn't be a big deal. Then she left and Miki was alone in her room. She took a tottering step towards her desk, then changed her mind and collapsed on her bed before her legs gave out.

Worthless. It was because she was being stupid that this all happened. It didn't matter what the Producer told her, this was her fault.

She lifted a fist and dropped it on the back of her head a few times. "Stupid. Dumb. Idiot."

Saying those words didn't change anything. She knew that already.

She unclenched her hand and dug the nails into her scalp. "Idiot." Then she started to cry again, not because it hurt, but because she felt ill and helpless and someone got hurt and it was her fault. She curled up, threw her blanket over her head, and wept into her hands until the tears ran out.

After a few minutes of silence, she sat up, suddenly fed up with doing nothing. After all, the Producer had given her something to do, hadn't he? He was counting on her, wasn't he?

It was way too late in the night to be making calls, but she could send a text message to everyone. She was in no shape to talk anyway, with racking sobs shaking her every few seconds. She really wanted to stop that, having put away all of her tears, but they were persistent and wouldn't stop and it was so annoying.

"Stupid," she muttered as she typed, but it was no longer just towards herself. "Stupid stupid dumb idiot, stop crying already."

There. She had just sent a message to all of the other idols, and Kotori even, that the Producer wouldn't be available for the rest of the week, maybe more. It was up to them to get it and make of it what they would. She wiped her face on her arm. It was getting pretty damp from having to do that so much.

Though she was tired, she was alert from all of her crying. She decided to take a shower and stepped into the bathroom. She looked down at the counter to the bottle of hair dye. She picked it up, considered it for a moment, then threw it in the trash. As she undressed, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She leaned on the counter and glared at her reflection.

Such a small, good-for-nothing girl, with her head in the clouds all the time. She felt a sudden pang of wrath towards the reflection. Without thinking, she put some soap on her finger and drew lines on the mirror. "When Miki comes back...there'll be a new Miki here. One that doesn't let these kinds of things happen. One that's strong, and sure."

Yes, that sounded right. With that declaration, she stepped into the shower, clawing at her scalp.

When she got out, the clock said that she had spent a little less than an hour in the shower. It felt like she had been there much longer sloughing off her old self.

She looked into the mirror again. The lines she had drawn on the mirror were stark and clear against the steam. They spelt out the word "honey", but she couldn't remember why she did that. Part of her wanted to dismiss it as foolishness, but it also seemed significant somehow.

Looking beyond the word, she saw that she had managed to get the color out of her roots and the hair around her face, but there was still a distinct blonde tint to the rest. She wouldn't be getting that out. She had run out of shampoo. Still, something had to be done about it.

Miki saw her cell phone poking out of her skirt pocket, and she had an idea. A silly, reckless idea, but it felt like the right thing to do.

"Hello? Miki? ...This is Miki, right?"

The Producer sounded less sleepy than she expected him to be. She looked to the message she had written in the mirror to steel herself.

"Producer-san, what do you think of short-haired girls?"