Chapter Text
Gray clouds filled the sky, blanketing the morning in a dreary miasma. Everything felt muted: the colors, the sounds, none of it popped the way it should. It fit the mood.
Shiho trudged to school, the weight of her bass on her shoulder feeling particularly heavy that morning. Technically, she didn't actually need to bring it anymore, but it was a habit at that point. Even if her so-called band mates had bailed at the first sign of hardship, Shiho knew her dream would require constant work.
Her fingers ached from how long she'd practiced the night before. The calluses were finally starting to come in, and at least she didn't usually bleed anymore, but it still kinda sucked. Whatever. That was one of the prices she had to pay, and she'd known that going in. She would go pro. No matter what.
The schoolyard bustled with activity as more and more students arrived. Shiho tried to ignore as much of it as she could. Tried to ignore the occasional whispers as she walked by. Tried to ignore the glares as she passed her former band mates. Her face settled into a well-practiced look of indifference.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Honami and her "friends" chatting under a tree. Honami had a smile plastered on her face, but Shiho could tell how strained it was. Whatever. Honami had chosen them, so it wasn't Shiho's business anymore. (Never mind the fact that Shiho had made that choice for her. Honami couldn't say no to anyone, so it fell on Shiho to say no instead.)
Inside the school wasn't much better. In fact, in one specific way, it was much worse.
At the end of the hall, Ichika walked towards her. Shiho forced herself to stare straight ahead at a spot two feet to Ichika's side. She forced herself to ignore the look of hope that crossed Ichika's face and the way it crumbled when Shiho wouldn't meet her eye. She forced herself not to say anything as they passed each other. She forced herself to remember she had made this choice, too.
Shiho could withstand stares and the whispers; she didn't want them to reach Ichika or Honami.
No one bothered her at first during homeroom. By that point, no one really tried anymore. The few who did….
“Hey Hinomori, let's go to karaoke after school.”
Shiho glanced up from her desk and found three girls standing next to her. She recognized them as classmates, but if pressed to remember their names, she would certainly fail.
“Pass,” she said, looking back at the music magazine she'd been reading.
One of the girls clicked her tongue. “Y'know, this is why no one even tries to be friends with you anymore.”
She didn't look up again. “That's sort of the point.”
“Why can't you be more like your sister?” one of the other girls asked. “She's an idol! She's so nice and pretty and smart. It should be an easy enough example to follow, but you still somehow screw it up.”
It almost made Shiho laugh. If only these girls got the weekly calls from Shizuku saying she was lost. Or saw how stupidly Shizuku smiled when she saw a bunny. Or saw Shizuku's grades. These girls were comparing Shiho to someone who didn't exist.
“Yep, that's me: the big screw up.” She looked up, meeting the leader's eyes. “Are we done here? I'm trying to read, and class is about to start.”
All three girls rolled their eyes at her, but they left all the same.
The few who did still bother her were like that. Low grade bullies trying to make Shiho feel bad about herself. It was borderline funny.
The teacher appeared at the front of the room and went over some morning announcements. Just like every other day, a small part of her prayed the teacher would announce a new student and a familiar head of golden hair would step into the classroom.
Just like every other day, that didn’t happen.
Class started, and Shiho bunkered down for another long day.
####################
Pain shot through Shiho's finger, and a discordant twang reverberated through her room. She stopped playing and looked down at her hand. A small blister on her ring finger had broken, and blood oozed out from the freshly opened wound. She grimaced, more out of annoyance than actual pain. This was the first time she'd bled in months, since right before her sorry attempt at forming a band had fallen through.
She went into the bathroom and bandaged herself with practiced ease. More than likely, the bandage would still be needed tomorrow, meaning going to school with it on. Hopefully people knew better than to comment on it.
“Shii-chan! It's time for dinner!”
“Be right down!”
Arriving at the dining table, Shiho found her parents and sister already there.
Shizuku looked up and gasped. “Shii-chan! What happened to your finger?!”
“Just a blister that opened up,” she said, taking her seat at the table. “It’s no big deal; it doesn’t really hurt or anything.”
“It’s been a while since that happened, hasn’t it? I thought you had calluses by now.”
Shiho cocked her head. “I do, yeah, but I guess I didn’t have one there yet. Anyway, it’s whatever. Let’s eat.”
Dinner went fairly normally all things considered. Her parents did most of the talking, but sometimes they asked her and Shizuku how school and hobbies were going. Shiho always brushed them off with a “fine” or a “not bad.” Shizuku was the one who liked talking about herself, and today was no different.
Actually… as dinner went on, Shiho thought it was a little different. Shizuku’s smiles didn’t last quite as long, and when Shiho glanced at her during lulls in the conversation, she thought she saw a far off look in her sister’s eyes. She spent more time picking at her food, despite it being a meal she normally enjoyed.
“Oh, Shizuku, I saw that magazine cover shoot you were part of at the convenience store today,” her mom said. “You looked positively stunning!” Maybe it was Shiho’s imagination, but she thought she saw Shizuku’s eyebrow twitch. “Who was that other girl with you? I didn’t recognize her as one of your group mates.”
“That was Haruka Kiritani from ASRUN.”
“ASRUN, ASRUN,” her dad muttered. He snapped his fingers. “Oh! I recognize that name. They’ve been making quite a splash lately.”
Shizuku nodded. “They have, and Kiritani-san is their center. It was an honor to do a photoshoot with her. Hopefully Cheerful*Days can receive a boost in popularity by association.”
“I’m sure she felt just as honored to work with you,” her mom said, looking proud. “My beautiful girl is the most talented idol in Japan.”
Shizuku’s hand twitched. It was so subtle that Shiho thought she imagined it.
“Thank you, Mama.”
Dinner continued on, but Shiho couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with her sister. When she finished eating, Shizuku took her leave and went straight to her room. Food still sat on her plate, a rarity for her. Shiho passed by her closed door on the way to her own room and heard nothing.
She flopped onto her bed. The desire to continue practicing bass had dried up the moment her finger started bleeding, so she needed some other way to pass the rest of the evening. Her homework was done. She hadn’t bought a new CD in a while. Obviously no one to message, not like she wanted to anyway.
Her mind drifted back to her sister. To anyone else, tonight would have looked normal. Shizuku still smiled, laughed, ate, and spoke just like she always did. But behind it all…. Maybe Shiho was looking too far into it, seeing things that weren’t there, projecting her own worries onto her sister.
And yet… what if she was right?
Shiho sat up and grabbed the aquamarine Phenny plushie from the pile of Phennys on her bed. It sat in her lap while she got on her phone to do a little research. If something really was up with Shizuku, it probably had something to do with her idol activities. Her mom had mentioned some magazine cover with that Kiritani girl, so that seemed like as good a place to start as any.
It didn’t take too long to find the magazine their mom had seen. Shizuku stood in her normal Cheerful*Days outfit, smiling serenely and waving at the camera. Next to her stood another girl who could only be Kiritani. She was shorter than Shizuku, though still taller than Shiho. Her deep blue hair was cut even shorter than Shiho’s and styled perfectly to appear messy and natural. Her smile looked more vibrant and lively as she made a heart with her hands.
Shiho didn’t trust that smile.
She knew how many masks her sister hid behind whenever she did idol stuff. What masks was Kiritani hiding behind with that smile? Had she been mean to Shizuku behind the scenes? If she had hurt Shizuku….
The next hour passed with Shiho trawling the internet for any info she could about Kiritani. Obviously there were hordes of rabid fans online, but she knew better than to trust anything they said about their precious oshi. It only took a few minutes for her to ignore fan spaces completely and go right to the source.
She watched and read interview after interview, trying to get a feel for who Kiritani really was behind that perfect idol’s smile. And the more she read, the longer she watched… the less sure Shiho became that it was an act. It was the sureness of her posture, the confident eye contact, her consistently earnest tone of voice, the way her smiles always seemed to reach her eyes. Either this girl was the most perfect actor to ever live, or she really was the Platonic idol.
“And remember: Tomorrow will always be a better day!” Kiritani’s compressed voice said through terrible phone speakers.
It felt like someone dumped ice cold water on Shiho’s head. Of all the platitudes and feel-good words Kiritani had said in all her interviews, this one rang discordant in Shiho’s mind. She thought of the whispers, the glances, the rumors, following her day after day after day. She thought of Honami and her “friends,” of Ichika’s crushed hope, of Saki in the hospital.
“‘Tomorrow will always be a better day’?” Shiho scoffed and locked her phone. “As if.”
She’d had enough of looking into this Kiritani girl. She convinced herself that Kiritani wasn’t the source of Shizuku’s issues (if those even existed in the first place and she wasn’t just imagining it), so there was no reason to continue wasting time on her.
Besides, it was time for bed.
####################
When Shiho stopped by the music store after school the next day, she found a limited edition release of her favorite album. As she held it in her still-bandaged hand, Kiritani’s words came back to her. Surely that was just a coincidence. She bought the CD and tried to push that saccharine sentiment out of her mind.
As the weeks and months went by, that sort of thing kept happening. Usually it was the accumulation of little things: a good test grade, a delicious bowl of ramen, her favorite band releasing a new single, perfecting a new song. Eventually, the mountain of evidence became too hard to ignore.
Maybe Kiritani had been on to something.
Even on the bad days—the days her brain felt like a maelstrom of everything she had ever done wrong—it gave her something to hang on to. If she could just weather the storm long enough, the clouds would break, and the ocean of her thoughts would calm.
There was always a better tomorrow.
Not every tomorrow was, but enough were.
Winter stretched on; it didn’t feel as cold as it once had.
One day at the music store, a big display caught Shiho’s eye. Walking closer, she saw it was promoting a new single from ASRUN. Her eyes darted back and forth, but no one else was around. She glanced towards the counter, and none of the regulars were manning the register.
A few minutes later, Shiho walked out of the store with a new CD. It couldn’t hurt to expand her musical horizons just a little bit. Despite the justification, she kept it wrapped up and hidden in her bag until she arrived safely at her room.
Once home (and after making sure no one else (especially Shizuku) was around), she shut herself in her room and played the CD. The aggressively upbeat and synth-heavy intro almost made her stop the song within five seconds, but she powered through it; this was about trying new things. Fighting back that initial distaste, she tried her best to listen to it the same way she would a new Tricot single. The rhythms and melodies weren’t as complex or technical as her favorite math rock bands, but underneath the generic Top 40 sound, she caught some interesting musical progressions.
Of course, for an idol group, the main draw came from the vocals. This, at least, was an area Shiho could admit they excelled. The vocal harmonies were on point, and each member had a unique enough voice to stand out during solo sections.
Haruka, of course, easily stood at the top. Her voice sounded clear, almost effortless. While most of the other members affected some kind of “voice” (some squeaky in a way that she didn’t really like, some breathy that reminded her of her sister’s singing), Haruka simply sounded like herself. The clarity, the strength of her voice drew Shiho in, and even before the first song had ended, she had learned how to pick out Haruka’s voice from within the harmonies.
When the song ended, she immediately listened to the B-side.
Then both of them again.
And one more time for good measure.
If it wasn’t for Shizuku’s shout that she was home, Shiho might have even listened a fourth time. As it was, the moment she heard her sister’s voice, she stopped the music and hid the CD. Then she chided herself for acting like she was guilty of something. She was just trying out new music. That wasn’t a crime or anything. It was for the sake of her own musical career, obviously.
The next day, she returned to the music store and bought their latest album.
####################
Middle school graduation came and went. Saki had never returned to school. Honami had never seen through those “friends” of hers. Ichika had never regained that spark in her eyes.
Shiho had never found the courage to be truly selfish.
She tried her best to keep Haruka’s message in her heart, but some days were harder than others. It was easy to believe in a better tomorrow for the little things. Believing in it for the big things when day after day after day seemed to prove it otherwise took more effort.
High school continued in much the same way. The biggest difference was the fact that she and her sister were once again at the same school. Whether Shiho saw this as a good or a bad thing depended entirely on the day and Shizuku’s immediate proximity at any given time; she liked being able to keep an eye on her when necessary, but she could do without the constant hug attempts.
Maybe, like, once a week…. But once (or multiple times) a day was too much.
A few weeks into the semester, the day started as any other. Shiho walked to school with her bass slung over her shoulders and her earbuds playing her favorite playlist. Despite the beautiful springtime weather, she still chose to wear her hoodie over her uniform; with high school being less strict about dress code customization, she decided to take advantage of that as much as possible. The hoodie gave her an extra layer to hide behind when she wanted it.
An ASRUN song came on, and Shiho smiled in spite of herself. It was one of Haruka’s solos, and the idol’s voice helped brighten the morning.
As she entered the school grounds, an incredulous shout pierced the air. She looked over and saw two girls standing by the tree in the courtyard. One of them—the one with shoulder-length brown hair—looked vaguely familiar (a classmate, maybe?) and on the verge of tears.
Whatever. It wasn’t Shiho’s problem. She continued on, making her way to her classroom.
A few minutes later, that same girl walked in, confirming Shiho’s earlier suspicion. An absolutely dejected expression covered her face. It looked like her whole world had just ended.
As she passed Shiho’s desk, Shiho heard her mutter, “ASRUN broke up… Haruka-chan retired….”
Shiho inhaled sharply. She pulled her phone out as quickly as possible while a slow dread rose in her chest. It only took a single google search to confirm the truth.
ASRUN had broken up, and Haruka had quit being an idol.
She barely caught her phone before it dropped onto her desk. What happened to delivering hope for tomorrow from the stage? Her hand tightened into a fist to the point that her nails dug into her palm.
Of course it was just an empty platitude. A lie. She felt stupid. How could Haruka—
No, stop. She took a deep breath. That line of thought only led to more hurt. Haruka was a professional musician, and she had every right to decide the course of her own career. Shiho could feel disappointed that an artist she enjoyed wouldn’t make anymore music—even sad if she could admit that to herself—but anger was wrong. Haruka owed Shiho nothing. They were strangers to each other: idol and fan, nothing more.
Her promise of a better tomorrow would live on in the music she left behind. At the end of the day, that was all Shiho could ask for. It was that simple.
“Hey look,” one of her classmates said, rather loudly. Shiho tried to ignore it as usual. “That girl that just walked down the hallway, didn’t she look like Haruka Kiritani?”
Shiho sat up ramrod straight.
“Oh my god, that is her! What's she doing here?! She’s going into Class C!”
And just like that, things got complicated again.