Wanderers of Sorceria Miranda, Ballet Dancer At an agency-wide ballet class Miranda encounters a new rival that is more alike to her than she would like to admit. ========================================================== ## Ballet Lessons Miranda stood in front of the package she had just received from Moon River Talent Agency, her arms crossed and lips curled into a slight smirk. She had seen the memo about the agency-wide ballet classes and, at first, dismissed it as something the others might be interested in, but not her. After all, she was already in peak physical condition from her martial arts training, not to mention the hours spent rehearsing for her performances. Her body was strong, flexible, and capable-- what could ballet possibly add? But curiosity had gotten the better of her. When she saw how few people had signed up-- less than ten names, barely a handful of them fellow musicians, actors, or models-- she thought, [Why not?] It wasn't like she had anything to lose. Besides, the promise of learning a new skill while keeping fit sounded reasonable. And who knows? Maybe ballet would even add some grace to her already fierce, commanding stage presence. [And how hard could it be?] Now, standing in the midst of her cozy apartment, Miranda inspected the training clothes delivered to her. The agency had all her measurements on file, so there were no surprises there. A simple white leotard, matching tights, and a pair of ballet slippers in pristine white satin sat neatly folded before her. She raised an eyebrow, slightly disappointed at how plain the ensemble looked. She had imagined something with a little more flair, maybe some dark tulle or embellishments. Something *her*. But then again, ballet was all about form, wasn't it? Simplicity would allow her body to take center stage. And what a body it was. The tights slid up her legs easily, smoothing over her muscular calves and thighs. She picked up the leotard and slipped it on, adjusting it snugly against her figure. The smooth fabric clung to her tightly, molding to every curve and angle. It wasn't flashy, but it didn't need to be. The simplicity of the white leotard highlighted just how toned and athletic she was. She finished by slipping into the ballet slippers. Miranda turned to face the mirror, letting her gaze roam over her reflection. Her body-- tall, lean, and powerful-- was on full display. The leotard and tights accentuated every line of muscle in her arms, her toned stomach, and her strong legs. There was no hiding behind layers of fabric here. This was raw, unfiltered *her*. Her red eyes gleamed as she studied herself, turning slightly to the side to see her full profile. She looked incredible, and she knew it. Ballet might be a new challenge, but with a body like this, how hard could it really be? She had mastered the art of kicking through years of training in martial arts; ballet was just another form of physical expression. She was confident she'd take to it with ease. She wondered how the other women would react when they saw her flawless body. Would they be as fit as her? Would they look this good in their ballet gear? She doubted it; she imagined the others would be just a little envious when they saw her like this, how their eyes might linger on her, admiring the effort she put into maintaining her physique. With one final glance in the mirror, she turned away, satisfied. Ballet would be another skill she could add to her growing repertoire, another way to showcase her talent and her body. She was ready for whatever the class would throw at her-- and more than that, she was ready to show everyone exactly what she was capable of. Miranda grinned, her red eyes flashing with determination. [Ballet? Piece of cake.] ---- The first Moon River Talent Agency-wide ballet class gathered in the spacious training studio. Eight people in total stood around, all clad in their white leotards, tights, and ballet slippers, the simplicity of their outfits doing little to conceal their physical forms. Miranda stretched casually, though her sharp red eyes surveyed the room, taking in the faces around her. She immediately recognized the three girls of Moonlight Prism: Hana, Riko, and Astra. They had toured together, and though their musical styles differed, they had built camaraderie through their shared experiences. Hana and Riko stood close together, chatting quietly, while Astra lingered near the back of the room, looking aloof as ever, her dark bangs covering half of her face. And then, of course, there was Shizuka Minazuki. The star talent; the one *everyone* knew. Shizuka, with her lilac hair and aura of quiet poise, stood apart from every other talent at Moon River despite her rather ordinary, unremarkable body, serene and almost untouchable. Miranda felt a ripple of competitiveness stir within her; being in the same room as Shizuka made her want to push herself even more, to prove to everyone just how unremarkable she really was. The last three women were less familiar to Miranda, though she quickly recognized two of them: Yuki, a photographer with the agency, though she didn't seem like she belonged here. Miranda raised an eyebrow when she noticed Yuki fidgeting with her leotard. The woman was clearly out of shape, and Miranda had to suppress a scoff. [Why was she even here? She's going to embarrass herself, and by extension, everyone else here, for not taking this seriously.] Tsukiko Kisaragi, the up-and-coming actress, had a quiet grace about her, with long black hair and a natural elegance that suggested she might excel at ballet. Miranda regarded her with mild interest before her gaze shifted to the last member of the group: Seira Ichijo. Miranda's eyes narrowed slightly. She knew Seira by reputation: a former gravure idol turned fashion model and actress. Seira was almost as tall as Miranda, and just as striking. Her body was enviably curvy, with a natural hourglass figure that rivaled Miranda's own. But it wasn't just her appearance that set Miranda on edge-- it was the way Seira carried herself, with an air of confidence. She wasn't intimidated by anyone here, including Miranda. It was clear she wasn't in awe of the half-American idol standing across from her, and that realization unsettled Miranda more than she cared to admit. The instructor clapped her hands to gain the room's attention and quickly began pairing people off for their first exercise. Miranda wasn't surprised when she was paired with Seira-- both of them were physically striking, and it seemed the instructor was matching people based on stature. As Seira approached, Miranda felt an uncomfortable mixture of annoyance and-- though she hated to admit it-- jealousy. She wasn't used to being on equal footing with other women when it came to appearance, at least not in such an immediate and direct way. Seira's curves, her long legs, her confident stride-- it all felt like a challenge. And Miranda didn't like feeling challenged. Seira smiled, standing in front of Miranda, her expression friendly and open. "Hey! You're Miranda, right?" she said, sizing Miranda up with a quick, casual glance. Miranda felt the scrutiny like a spotlight, and she had to resist the urge to bristle under it. "I've seen your work. You've got such an interesting look." Seira's gaze flicked up to Miranda's blue hair and then settled on her striking red eyes. "You're half-Japanese, right? Half-American?" Miranda blinked, slightly taken aback that Seira had immediately pegged her mixed heritage. Most people didn't bring it up so bluntly. "Yeah," she replied coolly, her voice tinged with caution. Seira's smile widened, almost admiring. "Wow, that's so cool! You're really lucky, you know. It totally paid off for you. I mean, your looks are stunning-- like something out of a fantasy." Miranda's stomach twisted at Seira's words. The ease with which Seira spoke about it-- the casual assumption that Miranda's unique appearance was some kind of blessing-- rubbed her the wrong way. [Lucky?] Was Seira serious? She had no idea what it had been like for Miranda, growing up half-Japanese in Japan, being picked on for looking different, for being *foreign* even in her own home country. It wasn't a look she had chosen-- it was simply what she had been born with, and it hadn't always been easy. But Miranda didn't say any of that. She swallowed her discomfort, keeping her expression neutral. She wasn't going to get into it with Seira-- not here, not now. Instead, she plastered on a smile of her own, albeit a more forced one. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." Seira, oblivious to Miranda's inner turmoil, continued with an easy laugh. "I spent so much time trying to perfect that look back in high school. But for you, it must have come so naturally." She seemed genuinely impressed, but Miranda couldn't shake the bitterness rising in her chest. [Naturally.] Sure. As if she hadn't spent years struggling with her appearance, with how others viewed her. Like she hadn't been forced to adopt her chuuni persona in school just to cope with the bullying. Miranda clenched her fists for a moment, then relaxed them. She wasn't going to let Seira get under her skin. If Seira thought she could waltz in here and talk down to her, Miranda would show her exactly what she was made of-- on the dance floor. The instructor called them to attention, and the class began with basic barre exercises. Miranda moved with confidence, her muscles responding instinctively to the rhythm of the movements. Her martial arts training gave her balance, precision, and flexibility, and she took pride in how naturally she adapted to the ballet steps. She threw a glance at Seira, who was moving with surprising grace, her curvy figure somehow as nimble as her own. Miranda's frustration only deepened. [She's good,] Miranda admitted to herself begrudgingly, but that didn't mean she couldn't outshine her. With each movement, Miranda pushed herself harder, her body flowing through the exercises with determination. She would prove that she wasn't just about looks-- she had the skill, the discipline, and the strength to back it up. Seira may have impressed her with her casual confidence, but Miranda wasn't about to let her steal the show. As the class continued, Miranda's competitive fire burned hotter. She moved with fierce determination, her body a display of power and precision. She would show Seira-- and everyone else-- that when it came to raw talent, no one could outdo her. ---- Miranda wiped the sweat from her brow as she stepped into the locker room, her body still feeling the burn from the ballet class. It had been challenging, but she was used to pushing herself physically. What she wasn't used to was the lingering presence of Seira, who had taken the locker right next to hers. The two hadn't exchanged many words since being paired up, but Miranda could feel Seira's eyes on her from time to time, which only fueled her frustration. Seira had been friendly, even complimentary, throughout the class, but Miranda couldn't shake the irritation simmering beneath her skin. There was something about Seira's nonchalant attitude, her confidence, that rubbed Miranda the wrong way. She undressed quickly, pulling her towel around her and preparing to head for one of the private shower stalls. But as soon as she turned, Seira approached, her expression beaming with admiration. "Hey, Miranda," Seira said, her voice light and cheerful. "You were amazing today. You picked up the moves so easily! I mean, you must have done this before, right?" Miranda turned to face her, keeping her smile tight. "Thanks. I guess I just pick up on things quickly," she replied, her words taking a cool, polite tone. Seira didn't seem to catch the underlying edge, though. "I'm serious! I've never seen anyone move like that. You're so athletic-- just naturally gifted." Seira leaned casually against the locker, completely at ease, talking as if they were old friends. Miranda clenched her towel a bit tighter. [Naturally gifted.] She had heard those words too many times growing up, usually from people who didn't know how much she had to endure because of her looks. "It's not really about natural talent," Miranda said, forcing a smile that felt as stiff as her posture. "It takes a lot of practice." Seira laughed, completely oblivious to the tension. "Oh, I bet, but still! You make it look so easy. You know, when I was in high school, I actually wanted to look like you." Miranda's eyebrow twitched. "Like me?" she echoed, her voice carrying a hint of disbelief. "Yeah! You know, the American look. It's such a cool look!" Seira pulled out her phone from her locker and scrolled through it, clearly excited to look up fond memories. "Back in high school, I was totally into the gyaru style. I wanted that exotic look so badly, but it's like... you were just born with it! I had to work for mine." Seira finally found the picture she was looking for and turned her phone toward Miranda. The photo showed a much younger Seira, her hair dyed bright orange with a streak of purple in her bangs. She was wearing a school uniform, her blouse unbuttoned casually, her tie hanging loosely under her collar, and an accessory sweater tied at her waist, embodying the rebellious gyaru style. Miranda noticed, with a small sense of relief, that Seira hadn't gone for the fake tan that many gyaru favored. But still, the image of Seira was a stark reminder of how different their experiences were. "See? I was trying so hard to get that 'cool American' look," Seira said with a grin. "I thought it would make me stand out, you know? Instead of the boring everyday we saw at school, I mean." Miranda stared at the picture, her jaw tightening. To Seira, it was probably just a fun memory, something she had chosen to do. But for Miranda, who had been singled out and teased for her looks, there was nothing fun about it. Seira's carefree attitude only made Miranda's discomfort grow. [She doesn't get it,] Miranda thought. [She chose to be different, while I didn't have that choice.] "That's... interesting," Miranda said, her voice carefully controlled. She wanted to be polite, but her words came out clipped, her frustration leaking through. "Must've been nice to just... try out a new look." Seira, still blissfully unaware of the tension, laughed. "It was! But it wasn't easy to pull off. You've got the real deal, though. I was always jealous of people like you." Miranda could feel the heat rising in her chest. She couldn't explain why Seira's words were bothering her so much, but they were. It wasn't that Seira was being mean-- she wasn't even trying to offend her-- but the flippant way she spoke about something that had been such a deep source of pain for Miranda grated on her nerves. Seira had chosen to be a gyaru, to stand out in her own way. Miranda had been born different, and no amount of hair dye or accessories could change that. "I think I'm going to shower now," Miranda said abruptly, stepping away from Seira. "It was nice talking to you." "Oh, sure!" Seira smiled, still completely unaware. "We'll talk more later, okay?" Miranda nodded curtly before making her way to the shower stall, grateful for the barrier between them. She turned on the hot water, letting it pour down over her. She pressed her palms against the tiled wall and let out a slow, frustrated breath. [Why does she get to act like nothing's wrong?] Miranda thought bitterly. [Like being different was just some game to her?] The memories of being teased, of being treated like an outsider, came rushing back. She had built her chuuni persona to protect herself, to hide the hurt and loneliness she had felt. And now, Seira-- so carefree, so *normal*-- was acting like it was all some kind of fun experiment. Miranda closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down. She couldn't let Seira get to her like this. The girl wasn't being malicious, after all. She just didn't understand. But that didn't make it any easier to swallow. [I'll show her,] Miranda thought, her resolve hardening. [I don't need to explain myself to her. I'll just be better, stronger. She won't even know what hit her.] ---- Miranda stood at the ballet barre, her fingers lightly gripping the wooden rail as she stretched her leg into a perfect extension. Seira stood beside her, executing the same move with a grace that Miranda found irritating. Their ballet classes had become a silent battle, a competitive dance where no words were exchanged but the tension was palpable-- at least to Miranda. In the beginning, Miranda had seen Seira as just another actress who happened to have the curves and looks to make it in the entertainment industry. Nothing more. But ever since they'd been paired together for ballet, Seira had become more than just an annoyance-- she was an obstacle. Miranda wasn't used to feeling like she had competition. She had always prided herself on her athleticism, her martial arts skills, and her ability to perform in front of an audience. Ballet, she thought, would be a new skill she could master easily. After all, she had the body for it. Seira, with her ex-gyaru past and her apparent lack of depth, shouldn't have been a threat. But Seira had surprised her. Their instructor had them working on the basics-- plies, tendus, and stretches at the barre-- but each time they moved through the exercises, Miranda felt Seira matching her every step. No, not just matching-- there were times when it felt like Seira was trying to outdo her, though Seira's face always wore that infuriatingly pleasant, admiring smile. Miranda's leg lowered gracefully from her extension, and she stole a glance at Seira. As usual, Seira was unfazed, moving with elegance, her long limbs flowing as though ballet came naturally to her. It annoyed Miranda to no end. She knew Seira wasn't doing this on purpose, but it didn't stop her from interpreting Seira's every move as some kind of challenge. Miranda's passive-aggressive competitiveness had, unfortunately, sparked something in Seira. While Miranda had been intent on showing Seira up at every opportunity, Seira had taken it as a friendly push to do better. Now, Seira was just as motivated, maybe even excited, to keep up with Miranda-- though for entirely different reasons. The two had fallen into an unspoken rhythm during each class. Miranda would try to raise the bar with a little extra stretch, a little more pointed toe, or a sharper move, and Seira would follow, mimicking her efforts with genuine enthusiasm. It was maddening. Seira had nothing but admiration for Miranda, while Miranda concluded that Seira's attitude was as phony as her old gyaru style. She recalled Seira's cheerful talk of being a gyaru in high school, showing off that picture of herself with the orange and purple streaked hair. Miranda had felt uncomfortable, compared to a trend-- a rebellious phase that people like Seira chose. Miranda didn't choose to stand out. She had been born half-American, and the teasing she endured in school had shaped her chuuni personality as a defense. It wasn't some phase she could shrug off; she would stand out no matter what, and because of that, she wanted to be the best. Now that Seira kept pace with her in ballet, that same feeling of being out-of-place bubbled up again. The instructor walked past them, offering a nod of approval. "Good work, you two. You're pushing each other, and that's a good thing. Keep it up." Miranda bristled at the compliment. Pushing each other? She wasn't pushing Seira to get better. She was trying to outshine her, to show her who was superior. But the instructor didn't see that, and neither, apparently, did Seira, who seemed to bask in the praise like a flower seeking the sunlight. Miranda executed another plie, her muscles burning slightly from the controlled movement. She could feel Seira's eyes on her, and it made her even more determined to outdo her. She went lower into the plie, her legs bending with perfect form, her chin held high in defiance. But when she glanced over, Seira was doing the exact same thing-- equally low, equally graceful. Frustration simmered beneath the surface. How was Seira keeping up? Miranda's martial arts training had given her strength, agility, and endurance. Seira, with her past as a gravure model and gyaru, shouldn't have been able to match her. But here they were, toe-to-toe, and Miranda couldn't pull ahead. "You're really good at this," Seira said, her voice filled with genuine admiration, flashing a friendly smile. "It's like you were born to do ballet." Miranda forced a tight smile in return. "Thanks," she replied, though the words tasted bitter. She couldn't understand it. Seira was so... nice, too nice, like nothing bothered her. It only made Miranda more suspicious of her. ---- Miranda wiped the sweat from her brow, feeling the familiar exhaustion in her legs as she made her way to her locker following the conclusion of the day's ballet class. Her body ached, but it was a good ache-- the kind that came from pushing herself to her limits. She caught sight of Seira in the corner of her eye, cheerfully pulling out a towel and chatting with another classmate. That smile again. That same, irritating smile Seira always wore, like nothing ever bothered her. Miranda had spent the entire class trying to outdo her, and yet Seira seemed completely unfazed, bouncing through the exercises as if ballet was just a fun little hobby for her. How could someone so seemingly carefree keep up with her, Miranda, who trained her body for combat and the stage? It didn't make sense. The locker room was emptying out as the other students filed into the showers, leaving Miranda and Seira mostly alone. Miranda had been stewing over this for weeks now, and she was tired of not knowing. Finally, she couldn't hold it in any longer; she needed to know. "How do you do it?" Miranda asked, her tone sharper than intended. Seira paused mid-laugh, blinking in surprise before turning to face Miranda with wide, bright eyes. "Huh? Do what?" "Keep up with me." Miranda's voice was flat, her gaze hard as she stared at Seira. "In ballet. How are you able to keep up?" For a brief moment, Seira looked stunned. Then, slowly, a grin spread across her face, and Miranda immediately regretted asking. It was like she had just given Seira the best compliment in the world. "Oh, wow! I didn't think you noticed me like that, senpai!" Seira bounced slightly on her toes like an excited schoolgirl. "I mean, you're so athletic and cool, and I always thought you were just *amazing* at everything!" Miranda blinked, taken aback. [Senpai?] Was she hearing this right? Seira was *older* than her, and here she was acting like Miranda was some kind of upperclassman idol. It was infuriating, but at the same time, Miranda felt a slight brush of superiority. Not that Seira had said anything truly flattering, but she certainly was playing into Miranda's ego. "To be honest, I was a cheerleader in high school, so that's probably why I can keep up with you!" Seira added, pushing her sweetness further. [Cheerleader.] Miranda had suspected something like that, and it only confirmed what she had been thinking all along. Of course Seira was a cheerleader-- bubbly, airheaded, and shallow. Miranda could almost picture it: Seira bouncing around in a short skirt, waving pom-poms and shouting cliches. It only affirmed everything Miranda suspected of her ballet partner. Seira kept talking, oblivious to the shift in Miranda's thoughts. "Cheerleading was so much fun! It was a great workout, and it taught me how to move my body, you know? Flexibility, balance, stamina-- it's all there! Plus, it helped me get noticed and eventually become a gravure idol!" Miranda's lips twitched in a barely concealed smirk. [Gravure idol.] Of course. Seira had used her looks and her cheerleader charm to get noticed and climb her way up, which only added fuel to Miranda's belief that Seira was nothing more than a pretty face. But something caught Miranda's attention in the way Seira mentioned her time as a gravure idol. It was a brief moment-- a slight hesitation in her voice, a tiny crack in her cheerful facade. Miranda tilted her head, narrowing her eyes slightly. Seira wasn't going into detail about her gravure idol days. In fact, she had glossed right over it, despite how enthusiastic she had been about cheerleading. That was curious. Miranda had always assumed Seira took pride in her past, flaunting her looks and her success, but now she could see it wasn't that simple. [A weakness,] Miranda thought, the realization settling in. Seira didn't want to talk about her gravure idol career, which meant there was something about it that bothered her. For the first time, Miranda felt like she saw a crack in Seira's armor, something she could use if the need ever arose. Seira, oblivious to the sudden shift in Miranda's gaze, kept prattling on, still animated as ever. "But yeah, ballet's totally different from cheerleading! I thought it would be easier, but it's really tough. I'm learning so much from you, Miranda! You really inspire me to keep pushing myself." Miranda barely registered the compliment. Her mind was already elsewhere, turning over this new piece of information. Seira began gathering her things, clearly getting ready to hit the showers while talking about who-knows-what. Miranda stood up and grabbed her own towel. She offered a brief nod, not really interested in continuing the conversation. Seira was too cheerful, too oblivious, and Miranda had heard enough for now. "I'm going to take a shower," Miranda said, her voice clipped. "Me too!" Seira replied brightly, heading toward the stalls with a bounce in her step. Miranda watched her for a second, then turned toward her own private stall, her mind racing. She had learned something valuable today; Seira might be able to keep up with her physically, but emotionally-- there was something there. A vulnerability. A small, satisfied smile crept onto her lips as she lathered up, the steam filling the shower stall. Maybe Seira wasn't as airheaded as she looked, but she was still weak. And Miranda wasn't going to let her forget it. ---- Over the next several ballet lessons, Miranda found herself relishing her newfound sense of control over Seira. She knew the cheerful brunette's sore spot now, and every time Seira threw one of her "compliments" her way, Miranda struck back with subtle but cutting passive-aggressive remarks. It was a dance of words, one Miranda was sure she was winning. After class one day, as they both approached the barre for warm-ups, Seira turned to her with her usual bright smile. "You've been doing so well lately, Miranda! It's like ballet just flows through you. I mean, I could never have picked it up as fast as you are." Miranda let out a small snort, stretching her legs in a way that made her feel taller, prouder. "Well, you know how it is. Some of us work for our talents, and others..." she trailed off, giving Seira a pointed look, "...well, let's just say being a cheerleader doesn't really prepare you for this level of grace, does it?" Seira blinked at her, taken aback for a moment, but recovered with a polite laugh. "Cheerleading's actually pretty tough, you know! You need real strength and balance to pull off some of those moves." "Sure," Miranda said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "if you're talking about smiling for the 'fans' or waving pom-poms. I'm sure you had plenty of practice with that during your *gravure idol* days, too. Must've been easy, just posing for the camera, letting everyone fawn over your looks." Seira's smile faltered this time, but she didn't reply. Instead, she turned back to her stretches, her movements a little sharper, a little less fluid. Miranda smirked to herself, emboldened by her ability to strike a nerve. She had Seira pegged-- a pretty-faced airhead with no real substance. She only got this far by leveraging her looks, not through any real effort. But as the lessons continued, something began to shift. Seira, it seemed, wasn't one to simply back down. The compliments didn't stop, but Miranda started to notice the edge to Seira's tone, the glint in her eye that wasn't there before. And in their movements at the barre, Seira's competitiveness was starting to match Miranda's own. As they performed their plies and stretches, their rhythm became more intense, more competitive. If Miranda raised her leg higher, Seira would match it. If Miranda held a pose for a little longer, Seira would follow suit, her movements graceful but filled with a sense of determination. Miranda could feel the heat of Seira's presence next to her, the unspoken challenge hanging in the air. The instructor, noticing the sharpness in their movements, said nothing. In fact, no one said anything-- not even the other students who often glanced their way. It was as if their tension had fueled something deeper. The competitiveness, though barely kept under control, was making them both perform better. Neither of them would back down, and neither of them was willing to let the other outshine them. One day, after a particularly grueling set of movements, Seira finally broke the silence between them. "You know," she began, panting slightly but keeping her tone light, "I'm really glad we're paired together, Miranda. You push me to get better." Miranda glared at her through the mirror. "Is that what you tell yourself? That I'm just here to push you? Maybe you should stick to what you're good at-- posing for the camera. Ballet requires real discipline, not just being able to flash a smile and sell your body for the lens." Seira's eyes narrowed, her smile tight. "I didn't sell anything, Miranda. I worked hard to move beyond that. But I'm sure you think everything's easy when it's not *your* life on display." Miranda snorted again, feeling a sense of triumph. "Worked hard? Please. Some of us have to build from the ground up, while others just skate by on looks and charm. I'm not here to play pretend like you are, Seira. I'm here because I belong." Seira wasn't smiling anymore, her competitive nature fully awakened. But to Miranda's surprise, Seira didn't lash out with words. Instead, she simply pushed harder in the lesson. Her movements became sharper, more precise, her balance and control impressive for someone still new to ballet. Miranda hated how Seira managed to keep up with her-- hated that Seira was now pushing her to be better as well, even though Miranda refused to acknowledge it. The lessons had become a battlefield, the barre their arena. Each plie, each arabesque, was a silent war. Miranda couldn't understand how Seira kept matching her, how she kept smiling, even when Miranda's remarks had grown sharper, more personal. Every comment Miranda made about Seira's past, about her looks, about her cheerleader days-- it was all aimed at tearing Seira down, but somehow, Seira was still standing strong. They weren't causing a scene-- there was a sense of control, a limit to their competitiveness-- but the intensity between them had escalated to a point where the instructor allowed it, seemingly believing that this rivalry was pushing both of them to improve. In a twisted way, it was. They were pushing each other, though not in the friendly, supportive way Seira probably envisioned. For Miranda, this wasn't about getting better; it was about winning. She wanted to break Seira's phony act, tear down the facade she thought Seira had built around her past. She wanted to expose the airheaded gravure idol for who she really was. Yet Seira was just smiling through it all, refusing to give Miranda the satisfaction. No matter how hard she tried, Seira was right there, keeping pace. For every snide remark, every passive-aggressive jab, Seira matched her with her persistence, her refusal to break. And that, more than anything, frustrated Miranda to no end. ---- The locker room echoed with the faint sounds of lockers opening and closing, the occasional murmur of other students in the distance as they shuffled out after another exhausting ballet lesson. Miranda and Seira were among the last left, both reaching for their towels, their rivalry still simmering beneath the surface. The silence between them was heavy, charged, and for once, Seira wasn't flashing her usual bright smile. Seira hesitated, her hand clutching her towel before turning to Miranda, her face serious for a change. "Miranda, can we talk?" Miranda glanced over at her, expression unreadable. "What is it?" Seira took a deep breath. "I just don't get it. I've been trying to be supportive, but it feels like every time I say something nice, you throw something mean back at me. I don't understand... why?" Miranda's eyes narrowed. "Supportive?" She scoffed, throwing her towel over her shoulder. "Is that what you call it? I'm not buying it, Seira. You've been acting like you're everyone's best friend, flashing those fake smiles, pretending you're just here to help. But I see through it." Seira blinked, taken aback. "What? My smiles aren't fake, Miranda. I've been genuine with you since the start. I just want us to do well together." Miranda's laugh was cold, her eyes burning with something deeper. "Genuine? Please. You've been throwing your past in my face, all those compliments, acting like your life's been so perfect. 'Oh, you're so graceful,' 'Oh, you're so pretty.' You don't think I've noticed how you talk about your cheerleader days and that gravure idol crap? You're a phony, Seira. And I'm not falling for it." Seira's mouth opened, but nothing came out. Miranda's words cut deeper than she expected. "*Phony*?" she repeated softly, hurt flashing across her face. "Miranda, that's not--" But Miranda wasn't done. Her voice rose, filled with the anger she'd been holding back for weeks. "You think just because you're all smiles and sunshine that it erases what you really are? An airheaded gravure idol who only got this far because she--" Miranda's eyes darkened as the words spilled out, "--slept her way up the ladder." It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room. Seira's eyes widened, shock giving way to a deep, burning anger. Her face turned crimson, and her fists clenched by her sides. "What did you just say?" Her voice was low, trembling with fury. Miranda stood her ground, her own rage simmering just beneath the surface. "You heard me." "How *dare* you!?" Seira hissed, stepping closer to Miranda, her body shaking. "I *worked* my butt off to get to where I am now. I didn't sleep my way up-- I've never *once* used my body like that to get ahead! You think you know me, but you don't know a damn thing!" Miranda didn't back down. "Oh please, everyone knows what kind of industry you were in. It's all the same. Pretty girls smiling for the camera, letting people use them--" Before Miranda could finish, Seira shoved her, hard, sending her stumbling back. "Shut up!" Seira snapped, her voice cracking with the weight of her emotions. "You don't get to say that about me! You have no idea what I went through!" Miranda, regaining her balance, shoved Seira back, her own frustration finally boiling over. "Oh, so now you're mad? Can't handle a little truth, huh?" In the heat of the moment, neither of them realized how close they'd gotten to the communal shower area. Their scuffle escalated, hands pushing, fingers grabbing at each other's shoulders as they tried to one-up the other. The next thing they knew, Miranda's hand collided with one of the shower handles, turning it on. A torrent of ice-cold water erupted from the showerhead, drenching them both in an instant. "Ah!" Seira yelped, staggering backward as the freezing water soaked through her leotard and tights, plastering her hair to her face. Miranda gasped, the cold shock snapping her out of her rage as she too was doused, her skin prickling from the temperature. For a moment, neither of them moved, their breaths coming in short gasps as the cold water continued to pour over them, chilling them to the bone. They collapsed against the tiled floor, the cold spray still raining down on them, both too stunned to move, the wet fabric clinging to their skin. For a long moment, the only sound was the splashing of water and their ragged breathing. Then, finally, Seira let out a shaky laugh, her voice weak and breathless. "How... how did we end up like this?" Miranda lay back, staring at the ceiling, her own anger drained away by the absurdity of their situation. She let out a quiet sigh, shaking her head. "I... I don't even know." She turned her head toward Seira, her voice softer now. "I guess... I just couldn't take it anymore." Seira blinked, pushing her wet hair out of her face. "Take what?" Miranda hesitated, biting her lip. She took a deep breath, then spoke, her voice low and vulnerable. "You. Your words. The way you kept talking about your gyaru days and comparing it to my life. You don't get it, Seira. School was hell for me. I was bullied for the same looks you kept praising me for. You were mocking me, rubbing your perfect life in my face." Seira's eyes widened in realization. "I--" She paused, her anger dissipating as she took in Miranda's words. "Miranda, I had no idea. I wasn't trying to mock you. I... I was just trying to relate, to be friendly. I didn't know it hurt you. I didn't mean to be insensitive." She looked away, ashamed. "It's not the first time my mouth's gotten me into trouble. I'm sorry." Miranda sighed, letting the tension drain from her body. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have said those things about you. I just... I couldn't handle it anymore." For a few moments, they just lay there, the cold water continuing to soak them as the tension between them slowly faded. Seira turned her head to look at Miranda, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Maybe we should, uh, get out of the shower before we catch a cold?" Miranda let out a small laugh, nodding. "Yeah, probably a good idea." The two of them slowly stood up, the water still dripping off their soaked leotards and tights as they trudged out of the shower, shivering from the cold. It wasn't exactly the resolution either of them had imagined, but something had shifted between them. Now they were just two girls, soaking wet, trying to understand each other. ---- At a cozy corner cafe nestled away from the busy streets of Tokyo, Miranda and Seira sat across from each other. They had changed out of their damp training clothes and back into their street outfits, both now wrapped in a more relaxed atmosphere. The delicate aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air as they each nursed a warm cup between their hands. Miranda took a sip of her coffee, her eyes staring down at the steam curling upward as she began to speak. "Middle school and high school were... rough for me," she admitted, her voice quieter than usual. "Being half-Japanese made me stand out. And not in a good way. I was taller than everyone else, and my 'exotic' looks made me an easy target." Seira's gaze softened as she listened, leaning in slightly. Miranda wasn't the type to open up so easily. "They picked on me," Miranda continued, her tone bitter. "Called me a freak because of my red eyes, said I didn't belong here. It was constant. Like, everything about me was wrong to them." She glanced up at Seira, her eyes shining with a rare vulnerability. "And yeah, by the way, my eyes are real. Not contacts. I know you probably thought they were just for show." Seira blinked in surprise, her mouth opening slightly. "I... yeah, I thought they were contacts. Wow." She shook her head, now seeing Miranda in a completely different light. "You're not the first one." Miranda gave a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. "They never believed me either, and that just made it worse. So, I created this chuuni persona. A magical girl who didn't care what anyone thought. I leaned into the whole magical idol thing, and eventually, the bullying stopped. They couldn't hurt me if I became someone they couldn't touch." Seira's heart ached for her. Miranda's coping mechanism made sense now, even if it had seemed strange from the outside. She nodded sympathetically. "It must have been exhausting, though." "It was." Miranda set her cup down with a sigh. "But it got me through. And when I was scouted to be a J-pop idol in high school, I thought, finally, I was getting out of it. But... it didn't happen. I didn't make it, and that crushed me. I had to claw my way up from the bottom to get to where I am now as a singer." Seira quietly listened, her own experiences coming to the surface. She waited until Miranda had taken a breath before speaking. "I know what you're saying." Seira paused, looking down at her own coffee. "I started out in the gravure idol industry. Skimpy swimsuits, sexy photo shoots... all of that. Just another in a long line of eager girls, ready and willing to be exploited." "That's where I met Shizuka," Seira continued with a small smile. "She was the one who helped me realize that I wanted more. I didn't just want to be a gravure idol, showing off my body. I wanted to be a real fashion model. But to do that, I had to leave it all behind at the height of my career. No more relying on those kinds of shoots. And that... that was devastating." She laughed softly, but there was a sadness behind it. "I ended up becoming a store mascot to make ends meet." Miranda couldn't help but smirk. "A store mascot? Really?" "Yeah," Seira grinned, the memory clearly still fresh. "I was Nyan-Nyan Cat. Like, a full-on costume, ears and tail and all." Miranda chuckled, amused by the image in her mind. "No way." Seira lifted her hands in mock surrender. "It's true. I even had to say 'nyan-nyan' in front of the Akihabara store to attract customers." With perfect comedic timing, Seira raised her hands like cat paws and did a little meow. "Nyan-nyan." Miranda burst out laughing, her previous tension easing. "You're kidding me! That's hilarious. We might have even met back then." Seira laughed with her, the mood between them finally lightening. They both took a moment to settle back down, the atmosphere warm and friendly now. "See, I know what it's like to start from the bottom," Seira said once the laughter had subsided. "I had to rebuild everything, from being a gravure idol to becoming a serious model. It wasn't easy, but I worked my butt off to get here. And yeah, sometimes, I let my mouth run off before I think. I never meant to be insensitive. You must think I'm a total bitch." Miranda took a deep breath, the weight of their earlier confrontation starting to lift. "Hearing you talk about your time as a gyaru, especially the way you compared it to my school life... it hit me hard. I was bullied for the same things you seemed to take pride in, and it just... it hurt." Seira's face fell, and she placed a hand on her chest. "I'm sorry, Miranda. I didn't realize my words would cut that deep. You have to understand, being a gyaru was one of the best times of my life. But that doesn't excuse how it came off." Miranda shrugged, her posture relaxing. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have lashed out at you like that." Seira reached out across the table, extending her hand. "So... maybe we shouldn't be rivals. We've both had our struggles, and we both worked hard to get here. What do you say we call it even and start over?" Miranda stared at Seira's hand for a moment, then smiled softly, the tension melting away completely. She reached out and took it. "Yeah, we're not just rivals or enemies. We're equals," Miranda said, her voice carrying a newfound respect. Seira squeezed Miranda's hand lightly. "Equals. I like the sound of that." =========================================================================== This story is written with heavy AI assistance. It probably went without saying, but Miranda is firmly established as a talent at Moon River Talent Agency, just like all the other entertainment characters. I don't think there was any compelling reason for her to be attached to another agency, but here it is not entirely clear if Arisa is her agent. ~ Razorclaw X