Karen tossed and turned, pulling the blanket tightly over herself as she attempted to sleep. The full moon, normally such a pleasant and calming presence as it sailed atop the cloudy ocean, appeared almost blinding tonight, yet drawing the curtains hadn't made it any easier to drift off. Not when the source of her unrest didn't actually lie outside.

She glanced over at her bedside table, where her alarm clock blinked the time. It was just past midnight, and to any other girl her age, that might not have particularly mattered, especially since it was the middle of summer break. Sleep until nine or ten, get up and have late breakfast or wait for lunch, then hang out with friends for the rest of the day. Rinse and repeat.

Karen, though, had never been an ordinary girl. And not just because she was now an idol, either.

For as long as she could remember, the disease had been the only constant in her life, an affliction that had plagued her every waking moment. It had battered her like an unrelenting, enervating storm, until she had been condemned to remain bound to her hospital bed, faceless machinery looming over her as she slept, ate, and sat, watching the world go by without her, waiting only for the suffering to come to an end.

One day, come to an end it did – just not in the manner she, nor anyone else, had ever expected. Her parents had rushed in, hugging her, tears in their eyes as they held her close. Her doctor, now a close friend to her family due to the sheer number of times they met, had followed close behind, beaming as he had spoken the words she'd simultaneously always hoped and never hoped to hear: that the disease was in remission, and she would be discharged permanently within the year. It was, by all accounts, a miracle.

But as she began middle school in earnest and tried to reorganize her life after the hurricane that had blown through it, she soon found herself mired in a second, less tangible malaise. Thanks to her considerable time spent out of school, classes were difficult to understand even on the best of days, and her classmates had no idea what to say to her because she barely knew what they were talking about in the first place. Soon, they never bothered to converse with her at all. She lived on autopilot, a lonely cog in an indifferent machine, simply going through the motions day by day. No different from when she was in the hospital, only this time she was in full view of everyone around her, judged for who she was not rather than for who she was.

Sometimes, in her many occasions spent alone, she would ask herself if grinding through all those grueling moments, eking out survival from the jaws of death, had been worth the effort. Why extricate herself from the frying pan only to dive headfirst into the fire? Why carry on if her weakened body and beleaguered mind meant that life was a formality, something merely to live, but never to love?

Then, she had met the Producer, and everyone else at 765 Production. And she hadn't looked back since.

Beside the alarm clock was a photo frame, and as she reached out and picked it up, squinting at it in the meager glow, she couldn't help but smile. There she was on the most dazzling of stages, flanked by all those she now called her friends – including her two closest companions, Rin and Nao, who stood at either side of her, their arms around her shoulders and hers around theirs – with a cheering crowd of thousands in the background, every color imaginable burning forth from a sea of raised glowsticks. The culmination of a dream she had yearned for ever since those cold and lonesome nights spent in the hospital, watching a cluster of girls singing and dancing on a tiny television, seeing them shine as bright as the lights that spurred them onward, wishing in vain that she could one day be like them.

Except it hadn't been in vain. She had made it. All the tears, all the pain, had been worth it in the end.

And it now fell to her to make sure that others like her could hold on to their dreams for as long as they were able.

Resting the photo frame against her pillow, Karen finally passed into slumber, the contented look on her face never once fading.


The clock ticked to ten, and with it came the time of reckoning.

Karen sat on the couch in the main office, hands clasped on knees, feeling for all the world as though she were attending some kind of job interview. There was really nothing to be nervous about – at least, there wouldn't have been if she were waiting for any other idol at the company. But she and Chiyo Shirayuki hadn't exactly hit it off on the best of terms, and she could only imagine how many more harsh words might roll off that sharp tongue if she didn't watch what she said.

The lift outside dinged, and a pair of flat heels clicked their way towards the front door, which soon opened to once again reveal that bob-cut crown, those brilliant purple irises, and a measured look of observance that never once let Karen out of its gaze as she eased onto the armchair opposite Karen.

"Good morning, Houjou-san," she said, her voice as thin as the cold wind that whistled out of the air conditioner behind her.

Karen gathered herself and assumed as casually confident a demeanor as she could manage. "Morning," she replied. "About yesterday, I just wanted to—"

"Yes, about that. I apologize for my brusqueness. I wasn't in the best of moods, as you could probably tell."

Now there was a surprise. "Oh, no. That was totally my bad. You were right – I shouldn't have eavesdropped."

"That makes us even, I suppose." Chiyo smiled with an unexpected warmth that instantly thawed her frozen features. A wave of relief washed through Karen's chest at the sight. "Anyway, the Producer has let me know about your visiting our place today. As I have training for the rest of the day and a product launch to go to at three-thirty, I won't be able to join you until evening. You have the address, though, so I trust you'll be able to make your way there yourself."

"Yeah, no worries on that front." Karen patted her handbag, where the slip of paper the Producer had given her yesterday remained.

"Good. If it's not too much trouble, please bring Ojou-sama a sports drink and some snacks. Anything salty will do, to replenish her sodium. I will reimburse you the cost for them tonight."

"That's fine, no need to pay me back. I was planning to buy something for her, anyway."

"As you wish. I expect Ojou-sama to be up and about, but if it's clear that she's just woken up, please allow her to return to sleep if she wishes, though I anticipate she'll want to talk to you for a while before doing so. Also, she likes walking around at night even when she's in no state to do so, especially when the moon is out. It's meant to be a full moon tonight, so…" Chiyo bit her lip. "I don't expect you to prevent her from going where she wants to go, but please tell her to exercise some caution, at least before I return. One time a few years back, she went out in the snow wearing nothing but her pajamas and a thin robe. Can you believe that? It's summer now, so that won't be that much of a concern, but… is there something strange on my face, Houjou-san?"

It was only then that Karen noticed she was staring intently at Chiyo, her cheeks tired from smiling the entire time. "Not… not at all," she said, a touch embarrassed. "I was just thinking that… well, you really care for Kurosaki-san."

"Of course," replied Chiyo as if it were the most obvious thing anyone had ever said to her. "She's my mistress, and I her servant. It's my job to worry about her. Though… there's more to our relationship than just that, as you might guess."

"Right. That makes sense." A thought struck Karen. "Now that you mention it, what's Kurosaki-san usually like? If you don't mind sharing, anyway."

"Well, if you're going to get to know Ojou-sama, then you might as well learn what sort of person she is beforehand." Chiyo opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "I owe Ojou-sama everything, and I do not exaggerate when I say that. She is bullheaded, but that bullheadedness gave me a home when no other doors would open. She loves mischief, but that mischief created a family for me when my old one had been… taken. Most importantly, though, she is the most compassionate person I have ever met, and that compassion has taken her all the way here, on the path of the idol. It is a path that she walks for my sake, so I might have my own journey to embark upon when she is gone."

She looped one leg over the other and pulled a face. A streak of pain seemed to drag across her countenance, creasing her brow, dulling the amethyst flame in her eyes.

"To be honest, I am not exactly sure if I want to be an idol. It's a lot of work, and it takes time away from looking after Ojou-sama. But when I see Ojou-sama smile like that… I can't help but smile with her." She chuckled bitterly. "Ironic, is it not? I'm the one with my life ahead of me, stuck doing something I don't particularly enjoy, all so I can better serve someone who loves what she does, yet has barely any time left to do it. And we both claim to put ourselves through all this misery for each other's benefit. It's all so stupid. Don't you think so?"

Karen was ready to disagree, as any well-meaning person would, but her response caught in her throat. She recalled herself contemplating something similar all those years ago, when she had no one around to rebuke her self-deprecating thoughts, leaving her to convince herself of her own idiocy over and over again until it became a prophecy dangerously close to fulfilling itself. What could she say to Chiyo that Chiyo likely hadn't already told herself?

In the end, she kept her silence, allowing Chiyo to say what she needed to say – which, as it turned out, had just about all been said already.

"In any case, I have a training session to attend, so I must excuse myself for now. I'm sorry for taking up your time. It's your day off – I'm sure there are things you would rather be doing than tending to myself and Ojou-sama."

Chiyo stood and reached out a hand. Karen got up as well, and took it firmly.

"Don't worry," she assured Chiyo. "I'm only doing this because I want to. I look forward to meeting Kurosaki-san."

That same warm smile returned to Chiyo's features, though it was now lightened by a hint of optimism. "Perhaps you and Ojou-sama might get along, after all," she murmured.

And with that last parting observation, she was gone, vanishing down the corridor towards the gym as swiftly as the breeze that trailed in her wake, leaving Karen to stand alone, arm still slightly extended as she stared after the mirage of Chitose Kurosaki's faithful servant. For the first time in some while, she had a glimpse of what it meant to be on the other side of the fence, to watch haplessly as someone you loved dearly wilted under the ravages of physical disorder, even – or especially – as they told you that they were fine, that everything would be alright in the end. The pain may not have been Chiyo's own, but it was certainly hers to bear as much as it was Chitose's. Karen knew what enduring that kind of torment looked like – she had seen it on her parents' faces every time they visited her at the hospital.

Thankfully, that wasn't something she or her family would ever have to experience again. The same, however, could not be said of the person she was going to visit, nor of her closest aide and acquaintance. And no words of comfort could soften the hardness of that truth – which, of course, only begged the question of what exactly Karen would say to Chitose once they actually met.

With a sigh, Karen departed the office, leaving the place to the heavy silence enrobing it once the front door snapped shut behind her.