"Alright, let's call it here for today." The dance trainer clapped. "Good work, girls. See you here on Wednesday, same time."
Karen Houjou sank to the ground and emitted a long, ragged sigh of relief, wiping the sweat from her forehead as she gazed over at the only other person in the gym with her – beside the trainer herself, who was already halfway out the door. Clearly, she felt there were more important things to do with her day than force a couple of teenagers to practice the same sets of dance moves hundreds of times over for a few hours, and Karen had to agree with that sentiment.
"You wanna grab some chow after this, Nao?" she asked.
The slug-like mop of curly, dull brown hair splayed across the floorboards twitched, and the bushy-browed visage of her best friend revealed itself, staring forlornly up at her. "I need a drink," Nao Kamiya groaned. "My throat's on fire."
"Here." Karen extended her water bottle towards Nao's grateful maw, yet just as Nao's lips pursed together in anticipation, Karen whipped the bottle away and took a long, hearty swig from it.
"…Oi."
Karen smacked her lips and put on as refreshed an expression as she could muster – in plain view of an increasingly irate Nao, of course. "You should've seen your face," she snickered. "You looked like a sea cucumber. Wish I took a pic."
"Very funny," Nao grumbled. "Now let me have a drink, please."
"What if I don't?"
"Then I'll do… this!"
Karen lifted her hand high up in the air to dodge Nao's desperate lunge at her bottle. "Tough luck," she said, a triumphant smirk plastered across her features. "You're gonna have to do better than that to defeat me, Nao-chan."
"Don't call me that," Nao snapped, before pushing herself upright and brushing aside the mess of wet hair dangling in front of her eyes. "Whatever, I'll get a drink later – don't wanna have any from your filthy bottle, anyway."
"You wound me. I wash it every day, you know."
"Yeah, but you just drank from it."
"…So?"
"What do you mean, 'so'? Your spit's all over it."
"My spit's not that dirty, is it?"
"That's not…" Nao's voice trailed off, and she mumbled something under her breath before hurriedly adding, "Anyway, how's McD's sound for lunch?"
"Why not."
They picked themselves off the floor and got changed out of their sweat-soaked training clothes, then headed out of the gym and back into the main office. It was one in the afternoon, and most of the other idols were either at an event, doing their own training, or having a day off, meaning that the place was otherwise deserted. The sound of their footsteps treading lightly on the carpet and the occasional honk from the traffic in the streets far below were the only noises that broke the deafening quiet.
As they walked past the familiar black door guarding the Producer's office room, however, the muffled voices emanating from within stopped them in their tracks. One of them was unmistakably the Producer's, an easily recognizable baritone that could be picked out even from amidst a crowd full of people. The other was not immediately placeable – it was female, but that could be said for just about everyone who worked here aside from the Producer himself.
Against her better judgment, Karen inched closer to the door and strained her ear to listen. Nao, with obvious reluctance, did the same.
"…not taken better care of, she will collapse again. Her current schedule is far too much for her body to take. You know this, Producer-san."
"Of course I take your point, but she's the one who requested I assign her more training slots," came the almost sheepish reply. "She said she wanted to make as good a fist as she could of her practice time before the upcoming—"
"It's still within your power to deny such a request, is it not? You should've done so from the start, knowing how precarious her current condition is. I understand you want the concert to be a success as much as she does, but that cannot come at the cost of her health. She simply can't afford to take such risks."
"I know. I'm sorry." A pause. "I'll cancel her vocal trainer bookings for the rest of the week. Her singing is fine from what I've heard, so that shouldn't be a problem. Also, I'll give her the next two days off so she can recuperate."
"Thank you. That'll be all, then. Good day." Footsteps abruptly approached the door, and Karen and Nao barely got out of the way before it swung open to reveal the person the Producer had been talking to: a slender, short-haired girl who peered at the duo through the curtain of black hair fanning just above her violet eyes, scrutinizing them as she stood at the doorway.
"It's rude to eavesdrop," she said sternly.
"…My bad," Karen muttered.
The girl brushed past them and departed down the corridor without another word. Karen and Nao looked at each other.
"That was… Shirayuki Chiyo-san, I think?" Nao said uncertainly. "Is that her name?"
"It is indeed," said the Producer, who had also made his way over to the two of them, hands on hips as he frowned, the conversation he'd just had clearly still weighing heavily on his mind. "If you heard all that, then I'm guessing you already know what's going on."
Karen shook her head. She'd heard bits and pieces about the ice-cold Chiyo Shirayuki and her mistress, the enigmatic, blond-haired, sickly-looking idol named Chitose Kurosaki. Gossip, though, was an unreliable source on the best of days, and not much more could be divulged about their actual identities or mutual relationship, not least because they preferred mostly to keep to themselves. Having been subject to much unsubstantiated rumor herself whilst confined to her hospital bed, Karen preferred not to pay too much heed to such whispers – though she sometimes couldn't help but wonder if Chitose really was a vampire, particularly when she saw just how shiny and deathly pale her skin appeared under the spotlight.
"Well, I don't think I should say too much without getting their permission beforehand. Although…" The Producer turned to stare at Karen, who immediately looked away from the heat of the Producer's keen gaze. Then, he shrugged. "On second thoughts, never mind – I don't want to burden you with more than you need to bear. You have that collaboration event coming up soon, after all."
"That event's no big deal – we've done dozens of those before. If you need a favor, Producer-san, I'm all ears." Karen smiled. "Though maybe only in exchange for a packet of salted egg crisps."
"You'll be asking for a lot more than just the one packet after you hear what it is." The Producer blew a tired breath through his nose. "Anyway, if you're not in a hurry, come in and let's have a quick chat. You too, Kamiya-san."
The two of them nodded and stepped into the office room, taking up the seats in front of the Producer's desk. The Producer also sat down, leaned back into his swivel chair and, after some hesitation, began to speak.
"Before I tell you this, I want the two of you to promise me that absolutely nothing we talk about today leaves this room. Zip, zilch, nada. Got it?"
"…Yeah."
"Alright. As you probably already know, Kurosaki Chitose-san is… not the healthiest of individuals. She goes about her idol work just fine, but she needs to take regular breaks, otherwise she'll end up collapsing from anemia. Something that you can probably sympathize with, Houjou-san."
Karen nodded. "I've heard that much about her."
"As I mentioned, I'm not going to disclose too much, but…" The Producer sighed. "Kurosaki-san is chronically ill, and it's suspected that it may, in fact, be terminal. The prognosis for now is that she has a few more years, roughly two or three, but beyond that… her doctors can't say for certain. In all likelihood, that's all the time she has left."
Nao lifted a hand to her mouth, wide-eyed with shock. Karen did not react outwardly, but inside, her stomach was churning, and it took all she had not to keel over on her chair. The trauma of her darkest years, momentarily gone but never quite forgotten, was now bubbling back up, roiling in her chest, numbing her limbs, catching her lungs as they struggled for air. The fear of never breaking the shackles of her sickness, of never leading the life she'd always dreamed of having, of dying before she'd ever truly lived – all of it came rushing forth like a tsunami, smashing through her mental barriers with harrowing ease.
She may have largely overcome her illness, but its specter had always lingered, inundating her with doubts, forcing her to ponder what she would do if it one day relapsed and she was sent back to that stark white prison, her raison d'etre cruelly stolen from her yet again. Hearing that someone who she was admittedly not at all close to, yet was so much like her in many respects, might see such nightmares become reality only served to reinforce those anxieties. Above all, however, she could not bear to imagine what Chitose Kurosaki herself must be feeling, knowing that her time alive would soon be cut so brutally short, told only to make the best of what little remained of it.
Karen eased her head into her hands, taking as deep a breath as the burgeoning lump in her heart would allow. Feeling an arm around her shoulder, she leaned over and nestled into Nao's outstretched embrace, letting the warmth of her closest friend flow into herself and gradually alleviate the sudden frost that had overtaken her senses.
The Producer, noticing Karen's obvious discomfort, quickly moved to apologize. "I'm sorry to spring this on you so suddenly, Houjou-san," he said. "I know it's not an easy topic to discuss."
"You should be sorry," Nao chided crossly as she cradled Karen's head in her arms. "It's not been that long since she's recovered from that horrible disease. There better be a damn good reason for making her remember all that, or I won't forgive you."
"It's okay, Nao." Karen slowly dislodged herself from Nao, who seemed reluctant to let her go, and cleared her throat. "I… think I get what you're saying, Producer-san. We have similar experiences, so you want me to help out in some way, right?"
"That's… yes, that's exactly it." The Producer appeared almost ashamed to admit that he needed Karen's assistance, but it was clear a matter like this was a little beyond his usual purview. He wasn't omnipotent, and he certainly wasn't afraid to ask for help when necessary – a quality that Karen greatly appreciated after having leant on him for support countless times prior. "Kurosaki-san herself told me that she'd like to get to know her fellow idols better, but most of them are wary of approaching her even after she tries to strike up a conversation with them. Thankfully, she has Shirayuki-san around to keep her company, but that can only get you so far in a highly social world like ours. In short, she needs more friends."
"And you want me to be one of those friends?"
"In a fashion. I don't mean to ask you to go out of your way just to try and get on her good side, and I don't want you to – friendships, like most relationships, aren't things that can be forced. But I hope that you can at least lend an ear if she needs it. I'm sure there are some words of advice you can offer her that Shirayuki-san may not be able to."
"I see." Karen carefully considered what the Producer had just told her. Now that she'd calmed down somewhat, she could definitely see where the Producer was coming from – those who hadn't lived with a chronic illness could never truly know what it was like to feel helpless in one's own flesh, as though incarcerated within their broken body. The melancholy that inevitably followed as a consequence could easily be mistaken for aloofness, which only led those who didn't understand it to stray away, one by one, until the patient was left to wrestle with their ailment alone. That sense of despair was one with which Karen was all too familiar, and she was determined never to experience it again, nor to allow anyone else to have to go through it if she could help it.
"I'll see what I can do," she finally said.
"Thank you, Houjou-san." The Producer's face broke into a relieved smile. "I'll let Kurosaki-san know, then. She's currently resting at home after fainting yesterday during training, and I'm sure she'd be glad to see you."
"See me?" Karen frowned. "You mean you want me to go visit her? At her place?"
"If you could. I have her address, but I feel it would be inappropriate for someone like me to go to her home. I'd like you to go in my stead tomorrow afternoon – that is, if you'd be okay with it."
"Producer-san, don't you think you've burdened Karen enough already?" Nao queried exasperatedly. "This is a lot for her to take in, I don't think—"
"Don't worry." Karen put a hand on Nao's shoulder and snuck her a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. I wanna do it, now that I know a bit more about Kurosaki-san. It's… only right that I do."
"You're too nice for your own good," Nao muttered, though she eventually acquiesced. "Fine, but don't come crying to me when you get stressed out from having to juggle your work and dealing with Kurosaki-san. I mean, I'll still come give you a hand when you want me to, but I… never mind. Forget I said anything."
Karen giggled. "Some things never change, huh, Nao-chan?"
A tinge of pink shot through Nao's cheeks, and she turned away. "Shut up," she murmured.
"Thanks, though. Really. You know I always appreciate you having my back, Nao." Karen turned to the Producer. "I'll pay her a visit tomorrow, then. Can I have her address?"
The Producer slid her a folded piece of paper, which Karen took and slipped into her handbag. "I'll give Kurosaki-san a ring today," he said. "I'll also let Shirayuki-san know, so just check in with her as well before you go. She's scheduled to be in the office at ten o'clock tomorrow morning."
"Will do."
With little else to discuss, the two idols said their goodbyes, and before long they were away from the stuffy office and back out in the open air, walking down the street towards their long-awaited lunch. The sun was there in all its shining radiance, with scarcely a cloud to mar the azure sky, and there was a cool breeze to complement the midsummer warmth. It was as perfect a day as one could hope for, yet something that Karen would otherwise have been incredibly grateful for now barely registered at all in her thoughts, so occupied were they by the most pressing matter at hand.
"What kinda person do you think Kurosaki-san's like?" Nao wondered out loud, jolting Karen out of her brief reverie. "I've never actually talked to her, so I don't really know."
"Me neither." It was a valid question, though one that Karen anticipated couldn't be easily answered. It would be a minor miracle just to be able to get to know Chitose Kurosaki in any sort of meaningful manner, but even that seemed a long, long way away. One step at a time, though, and Karen was sure some good would eventually come out of her interactions with Chitose. Why not go with the flow for now, and see what happened next?
"Only one way to find out, I guess," she said.