Wanderers of Sorceria 

Miranda, White Siren

The darling school idol of Sunshine Academy, Miranda, is tested by the harsh industry.

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## The Aloof Idol

Miranda strode confidently through the grand gates of Sunshine Academy, her long blue hair catching the morning sun as it cascaded behind her. She didn't walk like the other students, with their heads low and hurried steps, burdened by textbooks and the weight of exams. No, Miranda's steps were deliberate, slow even-- each one a proclamation. She wasn't like them. She was a J-pop idol, and everyone knew it.

The eyes of the students parted before her, a familiar sight to her now. They didn't crowd her-- she'd made sure of that-- but they always watched, just as they should. Miranda never asked for their admiration, but she expected it. After all, she wasn't just another student. She was special. 

Her sharp red eyes scanned the courtyard as she made her way to the main building, careful not to engage with anyone beyond a subtle nod here and there. It wasn't out of disdain, but she had a reputation to uphold. Besides, she had more important things to think about than idle chatter-- like her upcoming live performance. She imagined herself under the bright stage lights, the crowd screaming her name. It was a world far removed from the halls of this school.

She passed a group of students giggling near the lockers, no doubt discussing some trivial matters of high school life. Miranda allowed herself a small smirk. She remembered a time when she was like them, dreaming of becoming a "magical girl idol." That was before she understood the reality of the entertainment world, how much power lay in embracing a persona that projected strength and mystery. It was her "cool beauty" image that had earned her fans, not childish fantasies.

"Miranda!" a familiar voice called from behind.

She glanced over her shoulder, spotting a classmate-- one of the few who dared approach her directly. It was a girl who was an aspiring dancer who sometimes followed Miranda around like a lost puppy. Miranda never gave the effort to learn her name.

"Hey, I was wondering if you could give me some advice on-- "

"Later," Miranda interrupted smoothly, not even breaking her stride. "I've got rehearsal after school today. Busy."

The girl nodded, slightly embarrassed but clearly not surprised by the brush-off. Miranda didn't feel bad; she wasn't being rude-- just realistic. People like her didn't understand the weight of being in the spotlight, the constant need to maintain a perfect image. Offering casual advice would do nothing for her. Miranda's presence alone was enough inspiration for them.

Inside the classroom, Miranda took her seat near the window, a perfect vantage point where she could occasionally gaze outside, lost in her thoughts of performances and upcoming shoots. As the teacher droned on about history, her mind drifted. Did she need this? Did she really need to know about the Meiji Restoration or ancient wars? Her career was already unfolding. Yet, she remained here, in this school, among students who'd never understand what it was like to have cameras flashing in their face, to wear edgy outfits on stage while fans screamed their names.

A few desks away, she noticed some students whispering, casting glances in her direction. It wasn't unusual-- she was used to the attention-- but sometimes she wondered if they even knew what they were looking at. She was Miranda, not just another girl in a uniform. She wore it because she had to, but everyone knew she was different. Her life didn't revolve around exams or study groups; it was built on rehearsals, martial arts training to keep her figure sharp, and vocal lessons. 

The bell rang for lunch, and as students began shuffling out, Miranda remained in her seat, allowing the others to leave before her. It wasn't that she disliked them-- she just didn't feel the need to rush. There was something satisfying about watching them scurry about, living their lives, while hers was meant for something greater. 

When she finally stood, her movements were languid, purposeful. She made her way to the rooftop, her usual spot where she could eat in peace. The quiet hum of the city beyond the school grounds reminded her of the world waiting for her beyond this place. She sat against the railing, pulling out her lunch, a simple bento, but arranged with care.

As she ate, she allowed herself to reflect. Sunshine Academy was fine, a necessary stop on her journey. It kept her grounded, maybe even added a bit of mystery to her persona. She wasn't like the other idols who had left school behind for the sake of fame. Miranda wanted it all-- fame, success, and a little touch of normalcy to keep people guessing. 

Besides, her fans here adored her. Even the ones who whispered behind her back couldn't help but admire her. She knew that. Her presence was magnetic, and she had worked hard to become who she was. Not everyone could stand on stage and captivate an audience like she did. Not everyone could pull off edgy, rebellious outfits with the same grace. 

She finished her lunch just as a light breeze swept across the rooftop, carrying with it the distant echoes of laughter from below. Miranda smiled faintly, a glimmer of satisfaction in her crimson eyes.

Let them laugh, she thought. Let them go about their ordinary lives.

Her world was different-- larger, more intense, more special. And she belonged at its center, where she always would.

----

The lights dimmed, casting a shadow over the small but lively venue, a mid-sized concert hall that sat comfortably in Tokyo's entertainment district. Miranda stood just offstage, her heart thrumming not from nerves, but from anticipation. The crowd beyond the curtain wasn't massive-- certainly not the sold-out stadiums she envisioned for her future-- but they were loud, buzzing with the kind of energy she craved. It was always the same: her fans might not fill arenas, but the ones who did come adored her, and in her mind, that was what really mattered.

As the opening chords of her first song pulsed through the speakers, Miranda smirked, adjusting her mic. This was her domain, her stage. Out there, the lights, the choreography, the athleticism-- it all came together to create an experience. People didn't come to hear her sing; they came to *see* her perform. The songs were fine, of course. Catchy enough. But it was her presence that set her apart.

When the spotlight hit, she exploded onto the stage in a blur of motion, her long blue hair whipping behind her as she leapt into a series of acrobatic flips, landing with the precision of a martial artist. The audience erupted in cheers, as they always did. They weren't here for technical perfection-- they were here for the spectacle. Miranda thrived on it.

She owned the stage, moving effortlessly to the beat as the backing track carried her voice. Her red eyes gleamed beneath the stage lights, scanning the crowd as she executed a flawless high-kick, her sleek, edgy costume shimmering under the glare. She could see the faces in the front rows, their eyes wide as they followed her every move. They were mesmerized, captivated by her agility, by the sheer energy she poured into every step.

With a sharp spin, she transitioned into the chorus, microphone at her lips, though she barely focused on the lyrics, focusig instead on her lip movements. Singing wasn't really what this was about, anyway. The lyrics were simple, something about fighting for dreams or chasing the stars. Standard idol fare. But the power behind her performances was what set her apart. Each note was punctuated with movement, a leap here, a backflip there, her limbs slicing through the air like a dancer in combat. 

Miranda's concerts were always a physical feat, and she knew that's what kept people coming back. There were plenty of idols with prettier voices, more delicate harmonies-- but who else could pull off these kinds of stunts? Who else had the stamina to run a concert like a martial arts demonstration, making every jump and kick part of the show's choreography? She smirked to herself mid-performance. No one. That's who.

As she launched herself into another spin, she caught sight of a half-empty section of seats in the back. For a brief moment, it irked her. What were they thinking, not showing up to see her? But she quickly dismissed the thought. This was still a decent crowd, and the ones who hadn't come just didn't know what they were missing. It wasn't a reflection of her abilities-- it was their loss.

Besides, she reasoned, they were here for her energy, her charisma. The raw power she projected on stage was unmatched. She could see it in the faces of the die-hard fans pressed up against the barricades, waving light sticks and shouting her name. They didn't care if the entire city wasn't here. They cared about *her*, about what she could do. The spectacle.

The song neared its end, and Miranda delivered her signature move-- a high, twisting aerial kick that landed with a fierce stomp, right in time with the final beat. The stage lights flashed, and the crowd erupted into a wild frenzy. Miranda stood center stage, chest heaving slightly from the exertion, but her posture was regal. This was her moment. She basked in the applause, hands on her hips, soaking in the adoration.

Sure, maybe the venue wasn't the massive stadium she sometimes let herself imagine. Maybe she wasn't plastered on every billboard in Shibuya. But the people here, they understood her worth. They could see the *star* she was destined to become. And wasn't that all that mattered? 

Miranda's eyes flickered to a girl in the front row, a fan wearing an oversized concert tee and holding a glowing sign with her name on it. The girl was crying-- tears of joy, obviously. Miranda smiled inwardly. She didn't need millions of fans; she just needed fans like this. Fans who saw her for what she was: a force of nature, a performer who gave them more than just songs. She gave them *herself*.

As the final song ended and the lights dimmed again, Miranda strutted backstage, her head held high. The cheers followed her, echoing through the small hall. The air was thick with the lingering energy of her performance. Another successful show, she thought to herself. Sure, there were bigger idols, more famous acts, but no one did it quite like Miranda. No one could.

She didn't bother thinking about how her name wasn't topping the charts or how the bigger venues weren't calling just yet. They would, eventually. After all, she was *special*. The world just hadn't fully realized it yet. 

But they would.

----

## Stark Reality

Miranda sat in Mr. Ozawa's office, tapping her polished nails impatiently on the armrest of the leather chair. It wasn't often that her manager called her in for a meeting, especially one that wasn't immediately followed by talk of her next performance or an endorsement deal. Today, the vibe felt different, and she didn't like it. Mr. Ozawa sat across from her, his hands folded neatly on the desk, the faintest hint of concern in his usually unreadable expression.

"So, Miranda," he began, leaning forward slightly, "I've been going over your recent performances, and we need to have a serious talk."

Miranda raised an eyebrow, crossing her legs as she sat back. "Serious talk" usually meant "long talk," and she was in no mood to be lectured. She was doing fine-- more than fine. Her shows were getting decent crowds, and her athletic moves on stage were unmatched. Surely, he could see that. 

"What's the issue?" she asked coolly, her red eyes flickering with mild curiosity. 

Mr. Ozawa sighed, glancing at a stack of papers on his desk, probably charts and metrics she didn't need to bother with. "Miranda, you've got talent-- no one's questioning that. But the way things are going, this act of yours isn't sustainable."

She blinked, taken aback by the comment. Sustainable? What was he talking about? Her performances were full of energy, more than what most idols brought to the table. She prided herself on it.

"My *act*?" she echoed, her tone sharpening. "People love my performances. What's not sustainable?"

Mr. Ozawa leaned back, rubbing his temples. "Look, you've got a unique draw with the athleticism and the visual spectacle, but it's not enough to keep you relevant long-term. The truth is, you're not putting yourself out there as much as you could."

Miranda scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. "I'm *attending* Sunshine Academy, Mr. Ozawa. I'm getting my education while balancing my career. That's not exactly an easy thing to do."

"And that's the problem," he shot back. "While you're sitting in class, your peers-- the ones who *aren't* juggling school-- are out there hustling full-time, dropping singles, collaborating, growing their fanbases. They're moving ahead, Miranda, and you're standing still."

Miranda's lips pressed into a thin line. She knew other girls had left school to focus on their idol careers, but she'd always brushed it off. She didn't need to drop out like them to be successful. She was Miranda-- she could handle both. She had *presence*, and that was what set her apart. Still, something in the way Mr. Ozawa said it, in the cold pragmatism of his words, made her chest tighten.

"My parents wouldn't allow me to drop out," she said, her voice softer but still defiant. "They think this idol career is just another one of my 'phases,' like when I wanted to be a magical girl idol when I was younger."

Mr. Ozawa's expression softened, but only for a moment. "I understand that, but if you're serious about this-- and I know you are-- you have to understand what you're up against. By staying in school, you're not giving your career the full attention it needs to grow. You're self-sabotaging, whether you realize it or not."

Miranda clenched her jaw. *Self-sabotaging.* The words stung more than she expected. She wanted to argue, to tell him that he was wrong, that she was handling everything just fine, but deep down, she couldn't shake the sense that there was some truth to what he was saying. It wasn't that she didn't care about her career-- she did, desperately-- but she also wanted to respect her parents' wishes. She didn't need to drop out of school to prove anything. Right?

"I agree, but..." she began, trying to find the right words. "I need to honor what my parents want. They think it's important that I stay in school. And honestly, maybe I agree with them, at least about that."

Mr. Ozawa sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. "Then we need to figure something else out. Because the way things are going, you're not going to break through. The competition's fierce, Miranda, and those girls who dropped out? They're *doing* something. They're pushing ahead."

She didn't respond, just folded her arms and glanced out the window, the Tokyo skyline blurred against the office glass. She knew the girls he was talking about. Some of them had even been in her classes at Sunshine Academy before they left, chasing their idol dreams. She'd dismissed their decisions at the time, scoffing at the idea of leaving education behind for some fast-paced shot at fame. Yet, here they were, growing in popularity, while she...

"Miranda, listen." Mr. Ozawa's voice broke into her thoughts, his tone softer now, almost understanding. "I've been in contact with other idols. Girls like you who are in a similar spot-- ones who aren't quite taking off on their own."

Miranda furrowed her brow, confusion flashing across her face. "What do you mean?"

"The hot thing right now, especially for up-and-coming idols, is forming idol groups."

She couldn't help it-- she scoffed aloud at the idea. "A *group*? Me? I've seen those girls who dropped out of Sunshine to form groups, and they all end up clinging to each other like safety nets. I'm not like that. I don't need a group."

Mr. Ozawa met her gaze evenly. "Those girls are now successful. They're selling out shows and gaining traction, while you're..." He trailed off, but Miranda could finish the thought in her head: While you're being left behind.

She bit her lip, her pride bristling at the notion. But something deeper stirred within her, the nagging realization that he wasn't entirely wrong. She had dismissed the idea of groups as something lesser, as a crutch for idols who couldn't make it on their own. But the fact remained-- those groups were *succeeding*.

Mr. Ozawa leaned forward again, his voice gentle but firm. "You need to shake things up, Miranda. If you're not willing to drop out and focus fully on your career, then you need to consider other options. I'm not saying you can't make it on your own, but it's a much steeper climb. And groups... well, they're a faster way to the top."

Miranda sat back, her mind spinning with the thought. An idol group. She'd always thought of herself as a solo star, someone who didn't need to rely on anyone else. But was that her pride speaking? Was she holding herself back by refusing to see the bigger picture?

"I'm not asking you to make a decision now," Mr. Ozawa said, his tone softening again. "But think about it. Listen to the proposal when we meet with the others. You might find that it's not such a bad idea after all."

She didn't respond immediately, her gaze lingering on the skyline once more. The truth was, she had no idea what she was going to do next. But for the first time, she wasn't as sure of herself as she once had been.

----

The sun hung low in the Tokyo sky as Miranda stepped into the small, stylish cafe where she was set to meet Midori and her manager, Mr. Tanaka. The buzz of chatter filled the air, a comfortable backdrop to the tension that lay ahead. Miranda smoothed her outfit, a flashy ensemble that screamed J-pop idol, before entering the cafe. She was determined to command the room, to remind everyone that she was *Miranda*, a rising star, not the ordinary girl she once was-- *Naomi Kusao*.

Mr. Ozawa was already seated at a corner table, a tablet in front of him as he scrolled through notes. Miranda plopped down across from him, tossing her long blue hair over her shoulder. "Where are they?" she asked, impatience creeping into her tone. 

"Right on time," he replied, barely looking up.

Moments later, Midori entered, her long green hair cascading gracefully over her shoulders. She was accompanied by Mr. Tanaka, her manager, who glanced around before spotting Mr. Ozawa and motioning Midori to follow. Miranda assessed the newcomer with a practiced indifference, intrigued by the aura of calm that surrounded her.

"Hello, Naomi!" Mr. Tanaka greeted, his voice warm as he extended a hand toward Miranda. 

Miranda felt a jolt of annoyance. Naomi? That name felt so far removed from who she had become. She straightened, tilting her chin slightly. "It's Miranda," she corrected firmly. "That's my real name now. It's the name I've made for myself as an idol."

Mr. Tanaka blinked, taken aback but recovering quickly. "Of course, Miranda. My apologies."

Midori, standing quietly beside her manager, smiled softly, her green eyes wide and attentive. Miranda took this as a sign that Midori understood her position. She was polite, almost submissive, and that was just how Miranda liked it. 

"So, how long have you been pursuing your idol career?" Miranda asked, crossing her arms. 

Midori glanced at her manager before replying, "I started last year. It's been challenging but rewarding." Her voice was soft-spoken, and Miranda noted a hint of uncertainty behind the polite demeanor.

"Challenging," Miranda repeated, her voice dripping with condescension. "You'll learn that it's all about the presence you bring to the stage. That's what makes an idol special."

Midori nodded, a polite smile on her face, but Miranda couldn't shake the feeling that Midori was a little too agreeable. "I'm trying to find my style," Midori said, a hint of hesitation in her tone.

Before Miranda could retort, Mr. Ozawa and Mr. Tanaka began hashing out the details of their potential group, their voices fading into a distant murmur as Miranda focused on Midori. 

"What do you bring to the table?" she asked, leaning forward, her curiosity piqued. "What makes you different?"

Midori blinked, surprised by the question. "Well, I... I've been told I have a good singing voice."

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Good? That's it? If you want to be an idol, you need more than just a 'good' voice. You have to stand out, make an impact."

"I understand," Midori replied, her tone still gentle. "But I really believe that singing is essential for an idol. That's what captures people's hearts."

Miranda let out a small laugh, a mix of disbelief and arrogance. "Then let's see how good you really are." 

Midori hesitated, but there was a flicker of determination in her eyes. "Alright. We can try."

"Let's do it," Miranda said, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of showing Midori just how superior she was. They moved to a quieter corner of the cafe, Mr. Ozawa and Mr. Tanaka continuing their discussion in the background.

"Pick a song," Miranda instructed, her tone more demanding than inviting.

Midori pondered for a moment before suggesting, "How about 'Koi no Uta'? It's a sweet ballad."

Miranda smirked. "Sure. Let's see what you've got."

As Midori began to sing, Miranda was taken aback by the clarity and warmth of her voice. It was better than she expected, effortlessly melodic as it floated through the air. Miranda hesitated for a moment, her confidence wavering, but then she joined in, her voice a stark contrast-- loud and sharp, but lacking the finesse that Midori brought to the table.

To Miranda's surprise, when their voices intertwined, the sound was harmonious, a blend that resonated beautifully. Midori's softer tones complemented Miranda's powerful delivery, filling in the gaps and elevating the overall sound. 

Miranda felt a mixture of pride and annoyance-- she was used to being the standout star, but here she was, overshadowed in a duet by a girl she had initially dismissed. 

They finished the song, and Midori looked at Miranda with a hopeful expression. "That was nice," she said, her voice tinged with nervous excitement.

Miranda forced a smile, but inside she was grappling with her thoughts. "Yeah, not bad," she replied, her tone betraying her true feelings. "You've got talent. I can see why Mr. Tanaka believes in you."

Midori's eyes brightened, but Miranda quickly added, "But that doesn't mean I'm ready to form a group. I still think I can make it on my own."

Midori nodded, looking a little less confident now. "I understand. I'm not sure if I want to be in a group, either."

As they exchanged glances, a silent understanding passed between them, both girls uncertain yet intrigued by the possibilities. Miranda's pride began to waver, a flicker of doubt creeping in. Perhaps there was more to this partnership than she had initially thought.

"I guess we'll have to see how it goes," Miranda said finally, her tone softer as she considered the idea. "Maybe we can work on something together, at least for now."

Midori smiled, genuine relief washing over her. "That sounds great."

As the managers continued their discussion, Miranda leaned back, her mind racing. She was still Miranda, an idol in her own right, but maybe there was room for collaboration-- maybe she could find a way to stand out *with* Midori by her side.

----

The soft murmur of conversation filled the small studio room as Miranda and Midori arrived for their first group meeting. Miranda strode in confidently, her long blue hair flowing behind her like a banner, while Midori followed closely, her green hair glinting in the overhead lights. The atmosphere buzzed with nervous energy, and Miranda felt a rush of excitement mixed with a tinge of uncertainty. They were about to meet their new group members, and in her mind, she was already positioned as the leader.

Seated in a circle were three other girls, their personalities shining through in their appearances. Momo, a bubbly girl with bright pink hair styled in playful pigtails, waved enthusiastically at their entrance. Beside her, Aiko, with sleek black hair accented by streaks of purple, sat absentmindedly blowing bubbles with her bubblegum, her expression one of disinterest. And finally, Gin, a silver-haired girl with an exuberant smile and an infectious aura, bounced in her seat, barely able to contain her excitement.

"Hey, everyone!" Momo chirped, her voice bright and cheerful. "I'm Momo! This is going to be so much fun!"

"Hi," Miranda said, forcing a smile while maintaining her air of superiority. "I'm Miranda, and this is Midori. We're thrilled to be part of this group."

Midori offered a polite nod, but her eyes were wide, taking in the vibrant energy of the room. Miranda quickly assessed her new partners, sizing them up. Momo seemed sweet and innocent, likely the heart of the group, while Gin radiated a boundless enthusiasm that could either be an asset or a distraction. Aiko, on the other hand, appeared somewhat jaded, a 'washout' from Sunshine Melody, and Miranda couldn't help but feel a hint of disdain for her. 

"So, Aiko," Miranda began, her tone almost condescending, "what's your story? I hear you've been around the block a bit."

Aiko shrugged, her gum popping lazily. "Yeah, I didn't make the cut for Sunshine Melody. But I'm back to redeem myself, I guess." She glanced at Miranda with a hint of defiance in her eyes. "No big deal."

Miranda suppressed a smirk. "Right, redemption. I like that. But just so you know, we're going to need a strong team to stand out."

Gin clapped her hands together, her silver hair bouncing. "I think we can be awesome together! I'm really excited!"

"Yeah," Momo chimed in, "let's be best friends and work hard!" Her enthusiasm was infectious, and Miranda felt a flicker of annoyance. These girls were so eager, so naive about the industry.

Midori shifted next to Miranda, catching her eye, and the two exchanged an understanding glance. They were older, more experienced in the idol world, and they had to take the lead.

Miranda cleared her throat, asserting her authority. "So, let's talk names. We need something that represents us. I was thinking... *White Siren Five*. It sounds cool and mysterious."

"White Siren Five?" Aiko echoed, her tone skeptical. "That's kinda cheesy."

"Cheesy, maybe," Miranda retorted, a sharp edge to her voice. "But it's memorable. And that's what we need. If we're going to make a mark, we need to stand out."

"What do you think, Midori?" Momo asked, her big eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Midori looked at Miranda, then back at the group. "I think it has potential," she said slowly. "It could work."

Gin's face lit up. "I love it! It sounds like we're superheroes or something!"

Aiko rolled her eyes but didn't protest further. "Whatever. It's better than nothing."

Miranda felt a surge of satisfaction. She was leading the charge, and it felt good. "Then it's settled! White Siren Five it is!" 

The others cheered, their enthusiasm making Miranda feel powerful. In her mind, she was setting the stage for something grand, a group that would rise above the rest. They would make a name for themselves, and she would be at the forefront, leading the way.

As they began discussing their initial plans and ideas for their debut, Miranda couldn't shake the feeling that she was surrounded by a mix of potential and uncertainty. They were all at different levels of experience, but with her as the leader and Midori as her second, they could mold this group into something extraordinary.

"Alright, ladies," Miranda declared, her tone brimming with confidence. "Let's get to work. White Siren Five is going to be the next big thing!" 

And as the girls began to brainstorm their first performance, Miranda felt a surge of excitement. This was only the beginning, and she was determined to make it a spectacular one.

----

The rehearsal room buzzed with anticipation as the five girls of White Siren Five gathered for their first official singing practice. Miranda stood at the front, arms crossed, her blue hair cascading over her shoulders, ready to take charge. She was determined to lead this group to success, even if the others didn't seem to share her level of ambition.

"Okay, everyone, let's get started!" Miranda called out, trying to inject enthusiasm into her voice. "We need to establish a solid sound if we're going to stand out. Midori, you take the lead on this one."

Midori nodded, a flicker of confidence in her eyes. "Sure! How about we start with the chorus of 'Siren's Call'? I think it fits our vibe perfectly."

The group gathered around, and as Midori began to sing, Miranda listened intently. Midori's voice was strong and melodic, and Miranda couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy mixed with admiration. As the others joined in, Miranda's irritation began to rise. Aiko's voice was off-key, Momo was a bit too soft, and Gin-- while enthusiastic-- was more excited than skilled. 

When the chorus came to an end, Miranda clapped her hands together, trying to maintain her composure. "Alright, that was... interesting. But we need to tighten things up. Aiko, can you try to match the pitch? It's a little all over the place."

Aiko crossed her arms defiantly, her purple streaks in her hair framing her face. "Excuse me? You think I'm the problem? Your voice is the weakest of all of us!" 

Miranda's jaw clenched. She had expected some resistance, but this was pushing it. "I'm not saying I'm perfect, but you need to realize that this is a group effort. We're all here to improve."

The tension in the room escalated, and the air thickened with unease. Midori exchanged glances with Momo and Gin, clearly uncomfortable. Miranda pressed on, sensing that Aiko was going to be a difficult challenge.

"Look, Aiko," Miranda said, trying to keep her tone measured. "You're the one who needs us to succeed. Remember Sunshine Melody? You're trying to redeem yourself here. If you want to prove something, you need to step it up."

Aiko's eyes narrowed, but Miranda could see the gears turning in her head. "Fine, I get it. But that doesn't mean I have to take your criticism lightly."

Miranda felt a wave of relief wash over her as Aiko finally backed down. "Good. Now, let's refocus. Midori, can you take the lead again? Your voice is our strongest asset here."

Midori nodded, a bit hesitant but willing to take on the responsibility. "Okay, let's start again from the top. This time, let's focus on blending our voices better."

As they began again, Miranda felt a glimmer of hope. Midori's strong vocals anchored the group, and gradually, they started to harmonize more effectively. The sound was starting to come together, and even Aiko managed to find her footing this time, though Miranda could tell it was more out of necessity than anything else.

Midori took control, guiding the group through the song with confidence, her voice shining. Miranda couldn't help but admire her talent, but in the back of her mind, she reminded herself that Midori was still her second. She had to maintain her position as the leader, despite the growing bond between the girls.

As the song reached its climax, Miranda felt a flicker of pride. They were improving, and even if it wasn't perfect, it was getting there. 

"Alright, that was much better!" Miranda exclaimed as they finished. "See? We just needed to work together. If we keep this up, we'll sound amazing."

Momo clapped her hands in delight. "That was so fun! I think we're going to be awesome together!"

"Yeah," Aiko agreed, though her tone still carried a hint of resistance. "But I still think I can do better."

"Of course you can," Midori encouraged her. "We all can. But let's not forget that we're a team now."

As the girls nodded, Miranda felt a mix of satisfaction and unease. They were making progress, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Aiko's spirit would be a challenge to manage moving forward. But as long as she remained the leader, she was confident they could navigate through it together, ensuring White Siren Five would shine in their own right.

----

The rehearsal room was alive with anticipation as the girls of White Siren Five prepared for their first promotional shoot. The air was thick with excitement, a mixture of nerves and giddy laughter as they each waited to try on their costumes for the first time. Miranda stood at the front, her blue hair cascading perfectly over her shoulders, a look of determination etched on her face. While she had taken on the role of leader, today she felt a nostalgic thrill-- a return to her original dream.

The door creaked open, and the stylist entered with a wide grin, dragging behind her a rack of colorful costumes. Each outfit was a riot of pastel colors, adorned with frills, bows, and all the quintessential elements of a J-pop idol ensemble. Miranda's heart raced as she spotted the costumes hanging in a perfect row: identical in style but tailored to each girl's size.

"Okay, girls!" the stylist exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious. "Let's get you dressed! You're going to look amazing!"

The girls clapped their hands in unison, buzzing with excitement. As they each took a costume from the rack, Miranda admired the intricate details. The fabric was soft and lightweight, shimmering slightly under the overhead lights. The bodices were fitted with sweetheart necklines, accentuating their youthful energy, while the skirts flared out in a playful A-line cut, layered with tulle to give them a voluminous look. 

Each outfit was adorned with fluffy ruffles cascading along the hemline, and at the waist, a wide satin ribbon cinched them in, tied in an oversized bow at the back. The skirts featured alternating layers of pastel pink and mint green, lending an airy, fresh vibe that matched their youthful image. Miranda couldn't help but smile as she imagined the vibrant energy they would project on stage.

As they slipped into their costumes, Miranda felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. This was the kind of outfit she had dreamed of wearing when she first aspired to be a J-pop idol. The cool beauty look she had cultivated for herself seemed far behind, replaced by this cheerful and cute aesthetic. Yet, as she looked at herself in the mirror, she felt a flicker of joy at the familiar reflection staring back at her.

"Wow, you all look so cute!" Momo squealed, spinning around in her dress. The pink-haired girl's enthusiasm was contagious, and Miranda couldn't help but laugh.

Aiko, still a bit skeptical, smirked as she adjusted her skirt. "I guess these are kind of cute, but I can't believe we're all matching like this. It feels a bit... childish."

"Childish?" Gin chimed in, her silver hair bouncing as she hopped from one foot to the other. "I love it! We're going to look like a super cute squad on stage!"

Midori stepped back to examine the group, a satisfied smile on her face. "I think it's perfect for our image. We're a new group, and we need to stand out. This is our chance to embrace something fresh!"

As they continued to admire themselves in the mirrors, the stylist began to add the finishing touches. She expertly applied pastel-colored eyeshadow and a touch of blush to each girl's cheeks, enhancing their youthful glow. With a few sprays of glittering body mist, they sparkled like the stars they aspired to be.

Miranda took a deep breath, soaking in the moment. Looking at her reflection, she could feel her previous doubts start to fade. This was a fresh start, a new chapter where she could combine her original dreams with her newfound ambitions. Even if she had left the cutesy idol look behind, she was now embracing it, blending her past and present.

"Alright, everyone!" Miranda announced, clapping her hands to get their attention. "Let's show the world who White Siren Five is! We may have our differences, but together we'll make magic happen on that stage!"

The girls cheered, their voices blending together in a harmonious excitement that made Miranda's heart swell. With one final glance in the mirror, she felt ready to step into the spotlight. They were a team, a united front dressed in matching costumes, and they were about to create a buzz that would leave an impact. 

As they gathered for their promotional shoot, Miranda beamed, confidence radiating from her. She may have started out just wanting to be a cool beauty, but now she was ready to embrace every part of herself-- cute, strong, and undeniably special. Together, they would make White Siren Five unforgettable.

----

The lights dimmed, and the electric buzz of the crowd surged through the auditorium. Miranda stood backstage, her heart pounding in her chest like a drumbeat. She could hardly believe this moment had arrived: their first stage performance as White Siren Five. The air was thick with anticipation, and she could feel the energy of the audience vibrating against the walls. 

"Are you ready, girls?" Miranda asked, her voice steady despite the excitement swirling inside her. She turned to her group, a confident smile plastered on her face, exuding the cool beauty persona she had honed over the years.

Momo twirled her pink hair nervously, her bubbly energy buzzing beneath her costume. "I'm so excited!" she squeaked, her eyes sparkling. 

Midori stood beside her, adjusting her collar with a composed smile. "Let's just do our best," she said, her calm demeanor grounding the others.

Aiko leaned against the wall, blowing a bubble with her gum, her expression slightly aloof. "Yeah, whatever. As long as we don't trip over each other, we'll be fine," she muttered, her confidence wavering just slightly.

"Just remember what we practiced!" Miranda reminded them, the sense of responsibility settling over her like a warm blanket. She couldn't help but feel that their success hinged on her ability to uplift her fellow members. After all, she was the one who had brought them together. "And let's put on a show that no one will forget!"

As the lights flashed back on, illuminating the stage, Miranda felt a surge of adrenaline. The countdown began, and her heart raced with the thrill of performing. "This is it!" she thought, her mind whirling with thoughts of how great they would look together, how their debut would be a testament to her leadership.

The curtain rose, and the crowd erupted into cheers, a wave of sound washing over them. Miranda stepped into the spotlight, the warm glow enveloping her like a halo. The other girls quickly followed her lead, positioning themselves in formation. Miranda took a moment to soak it all in, the way the audience leaned forward in their seats, eyes wide with excitement. 

"Hey, everyone! We are White Siren Five!" Miranda called out, her voice ringing clear through the auditorium. The cheers only intensified, fueling her confidence further. She was the star, and it was her charisma that lit up the stage.

As they began their first song, Miranda took charge, leading the group with an infectious energy. Their choreography was simple-- mostly arm movements and synchronized steps-- but to Miranda, it felt electric. She smiled brightly, her gaze sweeping over the audience as she belted out the lyrics with a confidence that made her feel invincible. 

The other girls followed her lead, but Miranda couldn't shake the feeling that they were slightly behind her tempo. [But that's okay,] she reassured herself. [They just need me to guide them!] With every twist of her hips and flick of her hair, she felt as though she was lifting them up, propelling their performance to greater heights.

Midori's voice blended beautifully with Miranda's, and as they harmonized, Miranda felt a sense of pride swell within her. She had given Midori the confidence to shine, just as she had always envisioned. 

[See?] she thought, stealing a glance at Aiko, who seemed to be loosening up a bit, her initial aloofness replaced by a hint of enthusiasm. [This is all because of me!] 

But as the song progressed, Miranda noticed Gin struggling to keep up with the choreography. The silver-haired girl seemed to be a step behind, her smile wavering as she concentrated hard on the movements. Miranda felt a flicker of annoyance but quickly squashed it down. [Gin just needs a little more encouragement.] 

As they transitioned into their next number, Miranda turned to the others, her voice a mix of encouragement and authority. "Let's pick it up, girls! We're doing great! Just follow my lead!" 

The crowd roared, and for a moment, Miranda basked in the adulation. It was easy to forget about the little hiccups when she was the center of attention, and she thrived on the energy radiating from the audience. 

They flowed into the final chorus, Miranda throwing herself into the performance with everything she had. The lights pulsed in time with the music, creating an atmosphere charged with excitement. She felt like a superstar, even if the choreography was limited and the synchronization wasn't perfect. 

As the song ended, she raised her hands high in triumph, basking in the thunderous applause. "Thank you, everyone!" she shouted, a victorious grin stretching across her face. She turned to the others, who were still catching their breath, their faces lit up with joy. 

"See? That was amazing!" Miranda exclaimed, her heart swelling with pride. "We really rocked it out there! And that was all because of me leading the way!" 

Momo bounced on her toes, her excitement palpable. "We did great!" 

Midori nodded, a soft smile on her face. "I think we worked well together." 

Aiko, still chewing her gum, managed a smirk. "Not bad for a first time. But we'll have to step it up for the next one."

As they took their bows, Miranda felt invincible. Sure, there were things to improve upon, but right now, all that mattered was that they had made their debut. She had brought them together, and together they would rise. As she looked out at the crowd, she knew this was only the beginning for White Siren Five, and it was all thanks to her special vision guiding them forward.

----

Six weeks following White Siren Five's debut, things weren't quite where Miranda had imagined they would be. Sure, their concerts had decent turnouts, and their first mini-album had sold enough copies to keep them afloat, but the splash Miranda had anticipated-- the meteoric rise to fame she had envisioned-- had yet to happen. It was frustrating, but Miranda remained confident. [It takes time for true talent to be recognized,] she thought, brushing off any lingering doubts.

In the shared dressing room after yet another modestly attended concert, Aiko stared down at her tablet, scrolling through the most recent sales numbers and social media statistics with a deepening frown.

"This is ridiculous," Aiko muttered, shaking her head. "We're barely pulling anything! And we're being completely buried by Sunshine Melody!" Her voice dripped with frustration, her fingers tightening around the tablet.

Midori, always the calm and measured one, sat nearby, organizing her sheet music. She looked up at Aiko with a serene smile. "Sunshine Melody has been around longer than we have. They're more established and already have a huge fanbase. It's only natural they're doing better."

Aiko blew a bubble with her gum and popped it loudly, her frustration evident in the sharp crack of the sound. "It's not just that. Sunshine Melody has big money behind them-- production value, promotions, everything. We don't. How are we supposed to compete with that?"

Miranda, overhearing the conversation, tossed her hair over her shoulder and stepped into the conversation with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Who cares what Sunshine Melody is doing?" she said, her voice brimming with confidence. "People will learn to appreciate us for who we are. We're different, more unique. They'll come around eventually."

Aiko rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed with Miranda's nonchalance. "Are you serious? We can't just sit around waiting for people to 'come around.' Sunshine Melody is stomping us because they're *better positioned*, and we're barely making a dent!"

Miranda's smile didn't falter. "You're being too impatient, Aiko. Rome wasn't built in a day. We just need to keep doing what we're doing, and people will recognize our greatness."

Aiko's eyes narrowed, her patience clearly wearing thin. She looked Miranda up and down, as if evaluating her from head to toe. "You really haven't left your 'chuuni' phase behind, have you?" Aiko snapped, her tone biting.

Miranda stiffened, her confidence momentarily shaken. "Excuse me?" she replied, her voice defensive.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Aiko continued, her arms crossing over her chest. "This whole 'I'm special, I'm great, people will recognize me' thing-- it's classic chuuni behavior. You're still stuck in some fantasy where the world revolves around you, but reality doesn't work that way."

Miranda felt a surge of indignation, her cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "I am *not* a chuuni," she insisted, standing up straighter, her voice rising. "I know exactly who I am, and I *am* special! I'm a J-pop idol, and I've worked hard to get here. People *will* see that, whether you believe it or not."

Aiko scoffed, her eyes flashing. "Sure, Miranda. Keep telling yourself that."

Before things could escalate further, Midori quickly stood and positioned herself between the two, holding her hands up in a calming gesture. "Stop it, both of you," she said firmly but gently. "Fighting like this isn't going to help us, and it's definitely not going to help the group. We need to stick together, especially now."

Miranda bit her lip, her pride still stinging from Aiko's words, but she knew Midori was right. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. She couldn't afford to let Aiko's accusations get under her skin-- not when she had to be the one to lead White Siren Five to greatness.

Aiko, too, seemed to relent, though she didn't drop the glare she was directing at Miranda. "Fine," she muttered, crossing her arms. "But I'm telling you, if we don't start taking this seriously, we're going to get crushed."

Midori let out a quiet sigh of relief as the tension began to dissipate. "We're all trying our best, but we have to trust each other and work as a team. Let's just focus on making our next performance even better, okay?"

Miranda nodded, though her mind was still racing. [A chuuni?] The word rang in her ears, echoing Aiko's sharp tone. [I'm not a chuuni,] she told herself firmly. She was *Miranda*, not some delusional kid living in a fantasy world. She was a star-- she just needed everyone else to realize it.

But as the group quietly returned to their tasks, an uneasy feeling settled in Miranda's chest. Aiko wasn't backing down easily, and it was becoming increasingly clear that she wasn't the only one questioning Miranda's leadership. The thought gnawed at her, but Miranda pushed it aside. She just had to show them-- show *everyone*-- that she was right. 

One way or another, the world would see her for who she truly was.

----

Miranda sat backstage, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the arm of her chair, her eyes narrowed in thought. The tension between her and Aiko had become unbearable, and it was clear to her that White Siren Five was failing. The group wasn't taking off the way she'd expected, and while she didn't want to admit it, she knew exactly why. *Aiko.*

In Miranda's mind, Aiko was the one thing standing in her way-- the one thorn in her side that had been poisoning White Siren Five from the start. She refused to acknowledge Miranda's leadership, constantly challenging her and undercutting her authority. If Aiko were out of the group, Miranda was certain the others would fall into line, and White Siren Five would finally flourish as it was meant to.

Her plan was simple. She'd manufacture a reason, something plausible but damning, to get Aiko kicked out. All it would take was planting a few doubts in their managers' minds, highlighting Aiko's rebellious attitude, her lack of cooperation, and painting her as a threat to the group's success. It was for the greater good, after all-- [White Siren Five needed Miranda at the helm, and Aiko was only dead weight.]

As she smiled to herself, satisfied with the scheme forming in her mind, the door to the dressing room creaked open, and Aiko strode in. Their eyes met briefly, and for a split second, Miranda thought she saw something in Aiko's gaze-- something calculating, something just as cold and determined as she herself felt.

Aiko casually leaned against the wall, popping her ever-present bubblegum. "So," she began, her tone dripping with false nonchalance, "I was just talking to Mr. Ozawa. You know, about the group's... struggles."

Miranda stiffened. "Oh? What did you say?" she asked, her voice even but laced with suspicion.

Aiko shrugged, her eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. "I just pointed out some *facts*. Like how we're stagnating, how our concerts aren't selling out, and how the group dynamics might need some... adjustments."

Miranda's heart skipped a beat, but she kept her expression neutral. "Adjustments? What kind of adjustments?"

"Oh, you know..." Aiko paused, blowing another bubble and letting it pop before continuing, "Maybe one of us isn't really cut out to be in White Siren Five. Maybe someone's holding the rest of us back."

Miranda clenched her fists under the table, her suspicion deepening. [Aiko was up to something.] But she wasn't the type to back down.

"Funny you should mention that," Miranda said coolly, leaning back in her chair. "I've been thinking the same thing."

The two locked eyes, the air between them thick with unspoken threats. It was clear now-- they were both aiming for the same thing. They both wanted the other out, and they both believed the group would be better off without their rival. The collision course was set.

The next few days passed in a tense blur. Miranda subtly dropped comments about Aiko's rebellious nature to their managers, planting seeds of doubt. Meanwhile, Aiko seemed to be doing the same-- Miranda caught whispers of Aiko questioning her leadership, her voice, her commitment to the group. The atmosphere in the practice room was suffocating, the once-lighthearted rehearsals now filled with a palpable sense of unease.

Finally, the moment of reckoning came. Midori, who had remained frustratingly neutral throughout the tension, called a meeting. Miranda expected it to be the moment where everything would fall into place-- where Aiko would finally be removed, and White Siren Five could move forward. She entered the room with quiet confidence, though a flicker of anxiety gnawed at the back of her mind.

Aiko was already there, leaning against the wall as usual, arms crossed and eyes sharp. Momo and Gin sat nervously off to the side, sensing the undercurrent of conflict but staying out of it. And Midori... Midori stood at the center, her usual soft smile replaced by something unreadable.

Miranda opened her mouth to speak, but Midori raised a hand, silencing her. "I know what's going on," Midori said calmly, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Both of you are trying to get each other kicked out."

Miranda's heart skipped a beat. [How did Midori know?]

Aiko, too, looked caught off guard, though she quickly recovered. "What's your point?" Aiko asked, her tone challenging. "Maybe one of us should leave."

Midori nodded slowly, but her eyes glinted with something Miranda had never seen before-- something cold, calculating. "You're right," she said softly. "One of you *should* leave."

Miranda smiled, ready to accept her victory. But then Midori's gaze shifted to her, and for the first time, Miranda felt a chill run down her spine.

"In fact," Midori continued, "both of you should."

The words hit Miranda like a punch to the gut. "What?" she sputtered, her confidence evaporating in an instant. "What are you talking about?"

"You're both bad for the group," Midori said bluntly, her tone suddenly steely. "Miranda, you're too focused on yourself to be a real leader. And Aiko, you're more interested in proving a point than working with the group. Both of you are holding White Siren Five back."

Aiko's face twisted in shock and fury. "You can't be serious," she snapped. "You think you're better off without us?"

Midori's expression didn't waver. "Yes," she said simply. "I've already spoken to our managers. They agree that the fighting between you two is toxic for the group. White Siren Five isn't going anywhere like this. But White Siren Trio will."

Miranda felt the world spinning. Midori... *Midori* had orchestrated this? Her second, her quiet and loyal second, had betrayed her like this?

"You can't do this!" Miranda cried, her voice rising with disbelief. "I'm the leader! *I'm* the one holding this group together!"

Midori's gaze hardened. "No, Miranda. You were the one tearing it apart. This is for the best. For all of us."

Aiko protested too, but it was clear-- Midori had already won. Their managers had agreed. White Siren Five was over. White Siren Trio-- Midori, Momo, and Gin-- would carry on without them.

Miranda stood there in stunned silence as Midori, once soft-spoken and unassuming, revealed the depth of her ambition. She had played them both, used their own plots against them, and now she stood as the leader of what remained.

Miranda's world had crumbled around her. Midori had taken everything she thought was hers. And worst of all, *she hadn't seen it coming.*

As Miranda and Aiko were escorted out, their roles in White Siren Five reduced to memories, Midori's voice echoed in Miranda's mind: "I'll lead White Siren Trio to greatness."

And for the first time, Miranda had no clever retort. Only shock, and the bitter taste of defeat.

----

## Disgraced Former Idol

Miranda walked down the familiar halls of Sunshine Academy, her school bag slung over her shoulder as she moved through the crowd of students. The chatter around her was mundane, filled with talk of homework, exams, and after-school plans. It was the sort of noise she had once thought she was beyond, something she had risen above when she became an idol. But now, as she blended into the sea of navy blazers and white blouses, she couldn't deny it.

*She was ordinary again.*

Her hand tightened around the strap of her bag. She hated how the managers had taken away her cute, frilly idol costume after her departure from White Siren Five. That outfit had been hers, a symbol of her dreams, her rise to the top. They wouldn't even let her keep it for herself, claiming it was property of the agency. And then there was Mr. Ozawa-- the one who had promised her success, the one who had said she had potential-- *he left her behind without a second thought.*

No longer an idol. Not even close. Just Naomi Kusao, a student at Sunshine Academy.

Except, no. *She wasn't Naomi.*

She was Miranda. She *would always* be Miranda, no matter what anyone said. Even if the world had cast her aside, even if she had been stripped of the title, the glitz, and the glamour-- *she was still Miranda.*

In some small way, she took solace in the fact that here, within the walls of Sunshine Academy, she still held onto something. She was a school idol, still admired by some of the students for her beauty, her mysterious aura, her past in the idol world. It didn't mean much outside these walls, but in this microcosm, she could cling to the illusion that she was still someone special.

It was a bitter consolation. She wanted more than this.

As she passed a group of first-year girls giggling about the latest Sunshine Melody performance, a sharp pang of jealousy cut through her. Sunshine Melody-- the group Aiko had once tried and failed to join, the group that had always overshadowed White Siren Five. Miranda had thought that, eventually, people would appreciate *her* group, her talents. But now, White Siren Five was a memory, and she... she was back to square one.

Her lips curled into a faint, bitter smile as she thought of Aiko. [At least Aiko was out of the picture now.] The girl who had dropped out of school to chase idol fame, who had constantly undermined her, who had accused her of being a *chuuni*-- [Aiko was done for.] Out on the streets, without work, without an education, with nothing to fall back on. That thought was one of the few things that brought Miranda some twisted comfort. Aiko had failed.

She had heard whispers from former fans of White Siren Five that Aiko was struggling. Rumors spread quickly among idol followers, and the word was that Aiko had no prospects left. [Serves her right,] Miranda thought, her smile widening. At least Miranda was still in school, still had a life ahead of her. 

She refused to acknowledge that Midori had betrayed her. Midori, her second, her trusted ally-- *no,* she wouldn't think of it that way. Miranda had left of her own accord. She had chosen to walk away from that mess. After all, White Siren Five was clearly doomed from the start, and it had nothing to do with her. It was easier to accept that she had left for something better than to admit she had been ousted, humiliated.

Midori had no power over her. None of them did.

But despite her internal proclamations, there were times when Miranda felt the echoes of Aiko's words haunting her. "*You're just a chuuni.*" The phrase rang in her mind, a cruel taunt that refused to be silenced. Aiko had thrown it in her face more than once-- mocking her for holding onto her elaborate dreams, her belief that she was somehow destined for greatness.

Miranda's jaw clenched as she walked through the school gates, her mind a whirl of defensiveness. *She wasn't a chuuni.* She wasn't some deluded girl clinging to fantasies of being special. She *was* special. The world just didn't understand it yet. 

It had never understood her.

She walked into her classroom and took her seat, the same seat she had sat in before her brief stint as an idol of White Siren Five. Some of the students glanced at her, maybe still thinking of her as that mysterious girl who had once performed on stage, but the admiration wasn't as loud as it used to be. Still, Miranda held her head high. 

Let them think what they wanted. She didn't need their approval. She didn't need anyone's approval, really. Deep down, she knew her time would come again. Her stage, her spotlight-- it would return. [Miranda would rise once more,] and when she did, the world would be forced to recognize her for the greatness she had always carried within her.

As she stared out the window, the sunlight filtering through the glass, she allowed herself to believe it. Even if no one else could see it, even if her costume had been taken away, even if Mr. Ozawa had left her behind... she was still special.

*She was Miranda*, and she was still destined for something more.

They just didn't know it yet.

----

Miranda slipped out of her house just after dinner, her heart pounding with the excitement of sneaking off for another night of singing. She had grown used to the routine, waiting until her parents were distracted or busy, and then making her escape. Her destination was always the same-- one of the small karaoke clubs tucked away in a side street downtown. It was the only place where she could indulge in her dream of being a J-pop idol without worrying about anyone from school seeing her.

After all, *she couldn't afford to let anyone know*. At Sunshine Academy, she was a member of the Martial Arts Club, and switching to the Music Club would have raised too many questions. It would look bad, like she was floundering for something to hold on to. And that was *not* the image she wanted to project. No, she was strong, capable, *a martial artist first*... but in her heart, she was still an idol. She could never give up on that dream, no matter how out of reach it felt sometimes.

The club tonight wasn't particularly crowded, but that only made the stage feel more intimidating. Miranda had gotten used to the feel of a microphone in her hand, the way the spotlight always managed to heat up the small room, and yet, every time she sang, she could sense the unease from the audience. The polite smiles, the uncertain claps. It was like they didn't get her, didn't understand how much of herself she was putting into every high note, every bubbly song choice.

She took a deep breath as she scrolled through the song selections. *J-pop*. The same genre she had always clung to, the one she had modeled herself after ever since she was a little girl watching idols on TV. The bright, sugary tunes, the high-pitched notes, the dream of wearing a sparkling outfit and dancing on stage with a crowd screaming her name.

But every time she tried to hit those high notes, something in the audience shifted. She could feel it-- the awkward glances, the hushed whispers, the quiet critiques. And even though she refused to admit it to herself, she knew that she wasn't hitting the mark.

She wasn't good enough.

Miranda pushed the doubt aside, selecting another familiar J-pop song. She would prove them wrong. She would nail it this time.

Her turn came up, and as she stepped onto the small stage, she felt that familiar thrill, the adrenaline rushing through her veins. The backing track started, and she began to sing, her voice reaching for those high, twinkling notes... and cracking just like it always did. She pushed harder, determined to overcome the flaw, to power through it with sheer will, but the audience remained distant. Detached.

When her performance ended, the applause was scattered, awkward.

She sat back down, feeling the sting of failure creeping in despite her determination. Before she could wallow in it for too long, the club owner, a middle-aged man with a worn-out expression, approached her. He had seen her perform there many times, and while he had never commented before, tonight he seemed to have something to say.

"You know," he began, leaning on the counter in front of her, "you've got a good voice."

Miranda blinked at him, surprised. "*Good*?" she repeated, her pride stinging at such a tepid compliment. "I can do better."

"I'm sure you could," the owner said with a small, patient smile. "But you're trying to force something that doesn't quite fit. I've noticed you always pick J-pop songs with those really high notes."

"Of course I do," Miranda said, crossing her arms defensively. "I'm an idol. That's what idols sing."

The owner raised an eyebrow. "But is that *your* voice? Have you thought about trying something in a lower range? Something that suits you better?"

Miranda's lips tightened. She'd heard this before, from Aiko, from Midori, even from Mr. Ozawa once. They didn't understand. She wasn't going to lower herself to something less than what she had always aspired to be. "I *am* suited for it," she said stubbornly. "I just need more practice."

"I don't think it's a matter of practice," the owner said, unbothered by her defiance. "Your voice is naturally deeper, more grounded. You could really shine if you tried something in that range. Just give it a shot."

Miranda bristled. *A deeper voice?* That wasn't what idols sounded like. That wasn't what she wanted. Her mind rebelled against the idea, but... at the same time, *there was something in the way he said it*. The suggestion lingered, despite her resistance.

She glanced back at the song list, irritated. "Fine," she muttered. "I'll try it."

When her turn came up again, she reluctantly selected a song the owner had recommended-- something softer, with a lower pitch. As the music began, she hesitated. This wasn't her. It didn't feel like her. But as she started to sing, something strange happened.

Her voice didn't crack.

It didn't strain or struggle to reach impossible heights. Instead, it flowed smoothly, naturally. She hit every note, the melody wrapping around her in a way she had never felt before. For the first time in a long while, the audience seemed... engaged. People were actually paying attention, and *not in that awkward, pitying way they usually did.*

When she finished the song, there was a brief moment of silence, and then the applause came. It was real applause this time. Genuine.

Miranda stepped off the stage, her heart pounding, but not with the usual thrill. It was something else. *Confusion.*

That hadn't been terrible. It hadn't even been bad. 

It had been... *normal*.

Her mind raced as she left the club, her usual confidence shaken. She walked through the streets, heading home, but her thoughts were far away. What if they were right? What if she wasn't cut out for J-pop? What if her voice-- her real voice-- was something else entirely? 

She didn't want to accept it. She couldn't. 

But the truth was starting to creep in. Maybe... she wasn't meant to be the kind of idol she had always dreamed of being.

Miranda clenched her fists, refusing to let the doubt consume her just yet. She wasn't ready to give up, not on her dreams, not on herself.

But as she walked home, her heart heavy with uncertainty, she couldn't deny that something had shifted. The world wasn't going to bend to her will-- and she wasn't sure how to handle that.

----

Miranda lay on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, her phone held limply in her hand. She was still in her pajamas, curled up under her blanket, feeling small. The room around her was a shell of what it had been. Her posters, once plastered on every wall-- bright, colorful images of her favorite idols-- were gone. All of them, except one.

Sailor V. The lone poster that remained.

Her eyes drifted to it, and she felt the familiar tug of nostalgia. *Sailor V* had been her inspiration, her guiding star for as long as she could remember. It was the poster she couldn't bring herself to take down, the one reminder of who she had wanted to be.

But now, even that felt distant. *Unreachable*.

She glanced back at her phone and scrolled through her playlist. Every song... J-pop. Every single one of them. The songs she had adored since she was a little girl, the ones that made her want to become an idol in the first place. The upbeat melodies, the sparkling vocals, the soaring high notes that she used to sing along with so passionately.

And now?

She couldn't even listen to them without feeling the sting of reality settle deeper into her chest. 

The karaoke club owner's words echoed in her mind, haunting her. "Your voice is naturally deeper." She hated that he had been right. Hated that for the first time, when she sang a song in her range, it didn't feel like a failure. 

But that wasn't *her* voice. That wasn't the voice of an idol. 

Miranda's chest tightened, and she squeezed her eyes shut as the tears came, rolling silently down her cheeks. She had fought this for so long, ignoring the cracks in her image, brushing off the whispers and criticisms from people who didn't get her vision. But there was no denying it anymore.

She *wasn't* cut out for J-pop. Not like this. Not the way she had dreamed.

Her voice couldn't reach those bright, sugary notes, no matter how hard she tried. She could see it now, clear as day, and it broke her heart.

"Why...?" she whispered to the empty room, her voice shaky with the weight of it all. "Why can't I be what I want to be...?"

The reality hit her like a tidal wave. She wasn't the J-pop idol she had always dreamed of becoming. No matter how hard she pushed herself, no matter how much she wanted it, the evidence was there. Her performance at the karaoke club had been a turning point, whether she wanted to admit it or not. When she had sung a song in her lower range, it had sounded... good. Better than good. It had been *right* in a way her other performances never were. 

But that wasn't what she had built herself up to be. The image of *Miranda* the J-pop idol, the one she had clung to for years, was shattered. 

And it hurt. So much.

The tears came harder now, her body shaking as she sobbed into her pillow. All those years, all the energy she had poured into becoming something she could never be. It felt like her whole world had collapsed around her. Everything she had built-- her identity, her dreams-- it was all gone.

After what felt like an eternity, the sobs finally quieted, leaving her exhausted and hollow. Her throat was sore from crying, her eyes puffy and red. Miranda wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and stared at her phone, her fingers hovering over the screen.

The thought of listening to her favorite J-pop songs felt unbearable now, like pouring salt into an open wound. But the desire to sing... that was still there. It was always there. 

Maybe that was the only part of her dream that hadn't died.

With a shaky breath, she opened a new search in her music app. [What now?] she thought to herself. She didn't even know what to look for anymore. She couldn't sing the high-pitched J-pop songs she loved. That much was clear. 

But maybe... just maybe, there were other songs out there. Songs that fit her. 

She typed in the search bar, her fingers hesitant. She didn't know what genres to try, what songs would feel right. But she had to start somewhere. She couldn't stop singing, not now. That was the one thing that remained after everything else had crumbled.

She found a few songs-- ballads, more soulful melodies-- and listened to them, her headphones soft in her ears. The music felt strange at first, unfamiliar territory. But there was something comforting about it too. The lower notes, the deeper resonance. It wasn't what she had planned, but it wasn't bad. 

She clicked on one song, listened to it closely, and felt the words flow through her. 

And as she lay there, quietly humming along, she realized something. 

[Maybe... maybe I don't have to give up on everything.]

Miranda wasn't sure what this new path would look like, but she knew one thing. *Miranda the J-pop idol was gone.* She could never go back to that. 

But *Miranda the singer?* That part of her still existed. And it was up to her to figure out what that meant.

With a deep breath, Miranda wiped the last of her tears and stared up at the Sailor V poster one more time. She could still be special. She still had something to offer.

She just had to find it in herself.

----

## Reincarnation

Miranda stood outside the cozy jazz lounge, her heart beating steadily against her ribs. The soft glow of neon lights painted the sidewalk, a stark contrast to the cool evening air. She adjusted her jacket, running a hand through her hair before pushing open the door.

The lounge was dimly lit, the atmosphere thick with the warmth of dim amber lights and the murmur of soft conversation. Small round tables dotted the space, with a modest stage at the far end, a grand piano set up but no one playing. The scent of whiskey and cigars mixed with the rich aroma of coffee in the air. It was nothing like the idol venues she used to dream of. This was quieter, more intimate. But it was here, and it was real.

Taking a deep breath, Miranda made her way to the bar, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor. The bartender, an older man with graying hair and a thick mustache, looked up as she approached. He raised an eyebrow, giving her a once-over.

"You don't look old enough to drink," he said, wiping a glass clean with a rag.

Miranda straightened her posture, pushing aside the sting of the comment. "I'm not here to drink. I'm here about the singing job."

The bartender gave her another long look, as if weighing her words. "Singing, huh?" His voice carried a note of skepticism. "You're awfully young for that kind of work."

"I just graduated high school," Miranda admitted, a faint tinge of nervousness creeping into her voice. "I'm looking for a job, and I saw you're hiring. So... here I am."

The bartender gave a slow nod, still not fully convinced but no longer dismissive. He gestured with his chin toward a table near the back of the lounge, where a middle-aged man sat alone, nursing a glass of something dark. "That's the owner. If you're serious, talk to him."

He slid a glass of water across the bar toward her. "For your nerves."

Miranda blinked but took the glass gratefully, sipping it before making her way to the owner. He was a man in his mid-forties, with slicked-back hair and a well-worn suit that suggested years of managing the place. His eyes were tired, but sharp, watching her with mild curiosity as she approached.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice direct but not unkind.

Miranda swallowed, gathering her thoughts before speaking. "Naomi Kusao... stage name Miranda." Her voice steadied, remembering the confidence she used to have. "I'm a singer."

The owner's gaze narrowed for a moment, considering her. "Stage name, huh? What kind of singer?"

"Jazz," she said without hesitation. It wasn't the answer she would have given a year ago, but it was the truth now. She had accepted that much. "I can sing jazz."

The owner leaned back in his chair, his eyes flicking toward the empty stage. He raised a hand and gestured toward it. "Show me."

The simplicity of his request caught her off guard. She'd expected a conversation, maybe an audition later. But now? 

Miranda nodded, trying not to let her nerves show as she walked up to the stage. The lights felt brighter now that she was under them, her reflection caught in the glint of the piano's polished surface. There was no band, no backup music, nothing but her and her voice.

Taking a deep breath, she began.

The first notes left her lips, soft and sultry, like the jazz she had been practicing in her quiet bedroom for weeks now. Her voice, naturally deeper than she had ever wanted it to be, seemed to resonate in the intimate space of the lounge. It was raw and unaccompanied, but it felt right.

The few patrons scattered around the lounge turned to watch her, their conversations dying down as she sang. Her voice filled the room, each note rolling over the crowd like smoke, thick and smooth. She was halfway through the song when the owner raised his hand.

"Stop," he said, his tone not harsh but firm.

Miranda's voice faltered, the words caught in her throat. She turned to face him, a protest on the tip of her tongue. She hadn't finished. She wasn't done proving herself.

"I'm not finished!" she blurted out, frustration flaring.

The owner didn't flinch, only pointing toward a door near the back of the stage, leading to a small dressing room. "Go back there and find a dress you like," he said, his voice carrying an air of finality. "You're opening tonight."

Miranda stared at him, wide-eyed. The words sank in slowly, as if her brain needed extra time to process what they meant.

She had a job. He was hiring her. 

A strange mix of disbelief and relief washed over her, almost making her forget where she was. She stepped down from the stage, feeling lightheaded, as though the ground had shifted beneath her feet.

"But-- " she started, still unsure what to say, if she should say anything.

The owner gave her a small, almost imperceptible smile. "You'll be fine. Just don't be late."

Miranda's legs carried her toward the backstage door without thinking, her mind still reeling. She wasn't sure what she had expected when she walked into the jazz lounge that night, but it wasn't this.

Inside the dressing room, there was a modest rack of dresses, ranging from sleek black gowns to simpler, more understated attire. Miranda ran her fingers over the fabric, her thoughts still spinning. She had done it. She had made it.

It wasn't the stage she had once dreamed of, and it wasn't the career she had built in her mind for years. But standing there, holding a dress in her hands, she realized that didn't matter anymore. She was still a singer, and she was about to perform.

For the first time in a long while, Miranda allowed herself to smile.

----

The lights were dim as Miranda stepped onto the stage, the soft murmur of conversation fading to a low hum as the spotlight fell on her. The dress she had chosen-- a sleek, black number that hugged her figure with subtle elegance-- felt foreign against her skin. It wasn't the frilly, flashy idol costumes she had once adored. This dress was understated, mature. It felt like stepping into a different world.

Miranda took a deep breath, gripping the microphone stand tighter than she intended. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could feel the weight of every pair of eyes in the room. The patrons, scattered around small tables lit by candlelight, watched her with quiet curiosity. There were no bright lights, no neon signs flashing her name, no crowd of screaming fans. This was a far cry from her idol days, but it was still a stage-- and it was hers, if only for a few minutes.

Clearing her throat, she leaned into the microphone. "Good evening," she said, her voice softer than she intended. She quickly cleared her throat again, trying to find the confidence she once had. "My name is Miranda, and, well... I'm new here."

A faint chuckle rippled through the room, but it wasn't unkind. Miranda forced a small smile, feeling the tension ease just a bit. "I'm here to help take your worries away for a while," she continued, more firmly this time. "So, uh... I hope you enjoy."

She nodded to the band, a small group of seasoned jazz musicians seated behind her. They gave her encouraging nods in return, and the pianist began to play a soft, melodic intro. The saxophone followed, filling the air with a smooth, soulful tone that wrapped around her like a familiar embrace.

Miranda closed her eyes for a brief second, waiting for her cue. When it came, she opened her eyes and began to sing.

Her voice started softly, almost tentative, as though she wasn't quite sure how it would be received. The deep, velvety tones that once made her feel inadequate now rolled out smoothly, filling the room with a richness she hadn't fully appreciated before. It wasn't the high-pitched, bubblegum pop she used to strain herself with. This was something else-- something more real.

As she sang, Miranda became acutely aware of the quiet in the room. Every face was turned toward her, watching her intently, their conversations forgotten. The patrons weren't rowdy or cheering, like the idol crowds she once dreamed of. But they were listening, and that was enough. 

Her voice rose and fell with the music, carrying the weight of the words she sang. It wasn't just a performance anymore; it was an expression of something deeper-- of the journey she had been on, of the changes she had faced. The doubts, the frustrations, the breakdown of the image she had built for herself. It all poured out into the music, and for the first time, it didn't feel like she was fighting against herself. 

Miranda glanced at the band, catching the eyes of the pianist as they played in perfect sync. Her voice grew stronger with each verse, the initial nerves fading into the background as the music took over. She swayed gently with the rhythm, her eyes scanning the crowd once more. People were watching her-- truly watching her. 

And it felt... okay.

The dream she had held onto for so long-- of being a J-pop idol adored by thousands-- had shattered in front of her, piece by piece. But standing on this small stage, in this ordinary jazz lounge, with ordinary people quietly sipping their drinks and tapping their fingers along to the beat, Miranda felt something new. 

Contentment.

She didn't know what her future would look like now. Would she keep singing here? Would she find another stage? She had no idea how long this chapter of her life would last, but for these few minutes, none of that mattered. The past, with all its broken dreams and disappointments, didn't weigh as heavily as it once did. 

Right now, Miranda was here. She was singing, and people were listening.

As the song neared its end, she held the final note, letting it linger in the air before slowly fading away. A brief moment of silence followed, and then the patrons began to clap-- softly at first, but it quickly grew louder. It wasn't a standing ovation or the deafening roar of fans screaming her name, but it was genuine. 

Miranda smiled-- a small, real smile this time. She nodded to the band, thanking them quietly before stepping off the stage.

The bartender gave her a nod of approval, and the owner, sitting at his usual table, raised his glass to her with an unreadable expression. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she belonged somewhere.

Miranda walked back to the bar, the applause still echoing softly in her ears. She was no longer an idol. She was no longer the starry-eyed girl with dreams of being a pop sensation. But she was still a singer, and that was enough.

[Maybe,] she thought, [being ordinary wasn't so bad after all.]

----

## Ordinary World

The jazz lounge hummed softly, the low light casting a warm glow over the intimate space. Miranda stood on stage, the sultry rhythm of the jazz number wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. She felt a familiar rush as she sang, her heart syncing with the beat. The patrons swayed in their seats, lost in the music, but her focus shifted when the door creaked open.

A newcomer slipped inside, dressed in a black hoodie that shadowed her face and oversized sunglasses that concealed her eyes. The pleated skirt she wore swished gently as she made her way to a table, and Miranda's breath caught in her throat. The unmistakable green hair peeking out from beneath the hoodie was a dead giveaway.

*Midori.*

As the song came to a close, Miranda's heart raced. This was not just a surprise; it was a storm of emotions, memories flooding back to her. Midori had been a significant part of her past-- both a friend and a rival. With a determined nod, she stepped off the stage and headed straight for Midori's table, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor.

"Mind if I join you?" Miranda asked, sliding into the seat across from Midori.

Midori pulled down her sunglasses just enough to reveal a hint of her eyes, her lips curling into a smirk. "I guess I can't say no to you, can I?"

"What brings you here in that disguise?" Miranda inquired, a teasing lilt in her voice. "Hiding from fans?"

"I heard that one 'Naomi Kusao' was singing here, and I had to see for myself," Midori replied, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement.

Miranda couldn't help but chuckle, shaking her head. "Well, my stage name is still 'Miranda' while I'm on the clock. Off the clock, I'll let you call me 'Naomi' if you'd like."

"Some things never change, I see," Midori said, a playful glimmer in her eyes.

They shared a moment of laughter, and for a brief second, the years of competition and hurt faded away. Miranda had heard about White Siren Trio's success, how Midori had taken on a big sister role for Momo and Gin, and how the fans adored her. 

"It must be nice," Miranda said, her tone turning contemplative. "I heard the fans gave you a nickname. Big sister Midori, huh?"

Midori's cheeks flushed, a hint of embarrassment creeping in. "It's a bit silly, honestly."

"Silly, but true," Miranda teased. "They look up to you."

"I guess," Midori admitted, running a hand through her green hair. "But let's not talk about me."

"Agreed," Miranda said, her voice softer. "I no longer blame you for what happened. I realize now that it was for the best."

Midori's expression turned serious, the weight of their past hanging in the air between them. "I'm really sorry for getting you removed. I thought it was the best for group cohesion."

Miranda nodded, accepting Midori's words. "I know. It just... hurt. But I understand why you did it."

A silence settled over them, the air thick with unspoken words and shared regrets. Neither of them wanted to discuss Aiko; they both knew that was a road better left untraveled. After a moment, Miranda decided to break the tension.

"So, is that all you came for? To catch up?" she asked.

Midori shook her head, a determined glint in her eye. "Actually, I want to see you sing. Even if I can't stay all night, I want to hear you perform."

Miranda felt a warmth spread through her chest, a blend of nostalgia and excitement. "Really? You want to hear me?"

"Of course," Midori said, her demeanor earnest. "I've heard you've been amazing, and I want to witness it for myself."

With a grateful smile, Miranda stood up from the table, a new resolve washing over her. She walked back to the stage, her heart light and her spirit renewed. This was a chance to show Midori how far she had come, how much she had grown since those turbulent days of rivalry and heartbreak.

As she prepared for her next set, Miranda cast a quick glance back at Midori, who sat at the table, a proud smile on her face. The air between them had shifted, a bridge built over the chasm of their past. With a deep breath, Miranda stepped into the spotlight, ready to pour her heart into her music, knowing that tonight was not just about singing; it was about healing and reconnecting with someone who had once meant so much to her. 

With each note, she felt lighter, and she knew that whatever the future held, she was ready to embrace it. Miranda was no longer just Naomi Kusao-- she was Miranda, the jazz singer, finding her place in the world.

----

## Demonic Shake Machine

Aiko stood behind the counter, arms crossed, glaring at the register. The dingy lights of the fast food burger joint flickered overhead, casting a dull glow over her ridiculous uniform-- a red polo shirt, matching apron, and a crinkly paper hat that threatened to fall off every time she tilted her head. She hated every second of it. Taking orders, flipping burgers, cleaning grease off counters-- it was a far cry from the life she imagined for herself.

Once, she had been on the verge of greatness. Sunshine Melody, the sparkling idol group she had been a part of, was still thriving. She could see their glossy posters plastered across the city, reminding her every day of the opportunities she'd lost. She had been there-- she had stood on those stages, had heard the applause. But her attitude, her inability to work with the group, had cost her everything. After being kicked out, she had scrambled to join White Siren Five, now White Siren Trio. Another chance, she'd thought. But no-- Midori, that self-absorbed prima donna, had taken over and turned the group into something unrecognizable. And Miranda? Well, Miranda had graduated and disappeared. Probably back to being a nobody. Aiko didn't even care enough to find out.

She sighed, staring blankly at the next customer who stepped up to the counter, barely masking her disdain. 

"Hi, welcome to Burger Blast," Aiko said with the enthusiasm of a zombie. "What can I get for you today?"

The customer, a middle-aged man with a baseball cap and an impatient expression, looked up at the menu. "Uh, yeah, just a Blast Burger, no pickles, extra ketchup."

Aiko wrinkled her nose. *How ordinary.* She was about to just punch in the order, but couldn't resist interjecting.

"You know," she began, her tone dripping with false sweetness, "you could, like, *really* elevate that burger with some jalapeños and maybe upgrade it to a double. I mean, come on, live a little."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Just a Blast Burger. No pickles. Extra ketchup."

Aiko bit back a snarky retort and keyed in the order, rolling her eyes as she did. [Why even ask if all you're going to do is be boring?]

As the man walked away to wait for his food, another customer, a smirking teenager with a mischievous glint in his eye, stepped forward.

"I'll have a strawberry shake," he said, his grin widening.

Aiko froze. Her stomach dropped. [Not the shake machine. *Anything but that.*] She glanced over at the machine in the corner of the kitchen, already half-expecting it to hiss and sputter. That machine was notorious for malfunctioning, and the last time she had tried to use it, it had shot chocolate shake all over her uniform.

"Uh," she began, leaning on the counter with a forced smile. "Are you *sure* you don't want, like, a soda? Or maybe an iced tea? The shakes here are, well, they're kind of... overrated."

The teen shook his head, his grin widening. "Nope. Strawberry shake, please."

Aiko gritted her teeth, her hands balling into fists beneath the counter. She could tell he knew exactly what he was doing, probably hoping for a show at her expense. She'd been through this routine before. She briefly considered flat-out refusing, but there were cameras in the store, and her manager already had it out for her.

"Fine," she muttered under her breath. "One strawberry shake coming right up."

She trudged over to the shake machine like she was walking to her doom, her expression darkening with every step. As soon as she pressed the button, the machine let out a horrible screeching noise, followed by a series of ominous clicks and whirs.

"Please don't do this to me..." she whispered to the machine, as if it would somehow heed her plea.

It didn't.

With a violent sputter, the machine exploded to life, and a stream of strawberry shake shot out of the nozzle, spraying directly into Aiko's face. The cold, sticky liquid dripped down her cheeks, covering her uniform and splattering onto the floor. She stood there, frozen in horror, the customer's laughter echoing in her ears.

The machine gurgled one last time, as if mocking her.

The teenager, barely containing his amusement, gave her a thumbs-up from the counter. "Great job! Thanks for the show."

Aiko wiped the pink, sugary mess from her eyes, her patience fraying at the edges. This is what it had come to. Reduced to a joke in a fast-food joint, taking orders from people who didn't care about her past, about who she once was.

She looked down at herself, at the ridiculous uniform, the paper hat, and the shake splattered across her front. It was humiliating, a stark reminder of how far she had fallen. The idol dream was dead-- she knew that. Her failed attempts to revive it had left her here, slinging burgers and battling a demonic shake machine for minimum wage.

For a moment, the bitterness rose in her throat, the old arrogance flaring up. She was *Aiko*, after all, not some nobody flipping burgers. She should've been on stage, under the lights, adored by thousands. But that world was gone. All the missed opportunities, the bridges she'd burned-- they haunted her every day.

With a deep sigh, Aiko wiped the shake from her uniform and trudged back to the counter, her expression hardening. She knew she wasn't cut out for this job, but it was the only thing left. Sunshine Melody moved on. White Siren Trio was gaining popularity under Midori's leadership. And Miranda, well, wherever she was, she wasn't here. 

But Aiko was here, stuck behind the register, taking orders and dealing with broken machines. As she took the next customer's order, she knew one thing for certain: no matter how much she tried to deny it, the life she had dreamed of was far, far out of reach.






===========================================================================

This story is written with heavy AI assistance.

I would have put this out sooner, but this is the second version of Miranda's idol journey. The first version of the chapter hit a snag because I was hitting a wall with the AI assistant protesting against Miranda's in-character thought process (which I think is a huge selling point for her story since it's just so bonkers), but I've since learned a better way to do that so it's more effective this time around. Probably by toning down Miranda's arrogance a bit, but it's clear that she's still very delusional up until her fall from grace.

The makeup of this version of White Siren Five makes use of having to change its members because the ones in the other version were using names for other characters, and the main focus are on the trio Miranda, Midori, and Aiko. Aiko, taking a page from Riko, is also a Sunshine Melody washout (I think maybe the back row members of Sunshine Melody are very limited or don't exist), and she is just as irreverant as she was as a metal singer. Midori, while not a huge focus, is really just hiding her ambitious side so it makes the 'betrayal' all the more shocking for Miranda. And Miranda, of course, is still in her chuuni phase. Momo and Gin are not hugely important so they're not developed.

Miranda still attending school and being a part of a Martial Arts Club instead of a Music Club is also a sticking point at how unusual she is for someone aspiring to be a J-pop idol because of just how much time being a professional idol actually takes up. This ultimately saves her from herself in the end, because even her parents recognize that Miranda is not going to make it as an idol, but Miranda doesn't realize this right away since she's stuck in her 'chuuni' phase, even if it changed drastically from the last chapter.

While Midori isn't a huge focus character, her part in the story is mostly the same, minus the ridiculous Circe parts. Here Midori is still motivated by saving the group without needing to sell it out and then get subsequently humiliated in a fantasy fashion (Circe is just early weirdness that kind of doesn't belong in a story like this, when White Siren Five was more of a revenge fantasy).

Since Aiko is a character in this story, it's only natural the tale ends with Aiko suffering her humiliating karmic fate as a burger flipper.



~ Razorclaw X