#nikimayoeclipse

Chapter 1: Mayoi 1

Mayoi is not good with people. Mayoi is not good at crowded rooms, or snake-tongued directors, or blinding strip lights illuminating him for everyone to see the freakish expressions twisted onto his face by the knotting in his stomach.

Which makes his current situation quite unfortunate, really.

Within a meeting room at ES Headquarters, the members of ALKALOID sit along one half of the table that occupies the space. Hiiro sits at the forefront, Aira beside him, then Tatsumi is next along, with Mayoi tucked as far into the back corner as he could get away with. The members of Crazy:B sit on the opposite side, although sitting isn’t quite the right word to describe the way Rinne Amagi drapes himself across the table, using his toe to tilt the chair that he’s supposed to be sitting on back and forth.

Rinne converses with Hiiro, although it’s more shouting than speaking—a boisterous, booming sound that numbs Mayoi’s every bone, filling every crevice of him with the urge to turn tail and sprint out of the door behind him. It’s ridiculous—it’s not even directed at him and he wants to run away. How pathetic.

The scent of lemon disinfectant clogs the air while the others chatter away around him, and Mayoi’s ears ring, pressure swelling in his head. Despite the volume, he can’t understand a single word being spoken. If anyone tried to talk to him now, he would look like a bumbling idiot, stammering and stuttering and choking on his own tongue. Not that they have any reason to want to talk to him. He wipes his clammy palms together through his gloves.

He shouldn’t have come here. But the instructions that Hiiro received stated that all members of ALKALOID were to attend. And now here he sits in this sleek, pristine place that’s so unsuited for people like him.

From across the table, Niki Shiina looks up from the gargantuan pastry he’s in the midst of devouring. Catching Mayoi’s eye, he offers a smile and a wave, his expression radiant.

Mayoi averts his gaze.

“You are doing well, Mayoi-san.” Beside him, the balm of Tatsumi’s voice soothes over the raucous. “It has been a while since so many of us have been gathered here together, hasn’t it? Even I find myself a little overwhelmed at present.”

Mayoi can only nod and offer him a miserable little sound in response, his words refusing to work. If this continues much longer, his heart will surely refuse to continue working as well.

The meeting room door swings open, shuddering against the doorstop as the COS PRO Deputy Director Ibara Saegusa strides in, a clipboard tucked under his arm, and a smile on his face that has Mayoi’s toes curling in his boots.

Ibara’s shoes tap against the laminate flooring. Tracking him with an unwavering stare, Rinne lets his chair fall back to the floor with a thunk. Meanwhile, Kohaku and HiMERU exchange a look. Only Niki appears unfazed, taking another bite of his pastry with a satisfied hum. 

What Mayoi would give to have events glance off him so easily as they do for Niki. What he would do to steal that ability and claim it for his own.

No, that’s a terrible thought. What a selfish, jealous creature he is. 

“Idols of Ensemble Square!” Ibara announces, still wearing that ghoulish smile. “It is truly an honour that you all came to join this meeting today, and I thank you humbly for your precious time.”

“Whaddaya want this time?” Rinne cuts in, glancing at Hiiro before narrowing back in on his target. “Us Crazy:B know your games by now, but if you’re planning on upping the stakes… Well, let’s say you might wanna reconsider the bets you’re makin’.”

“Games? Amagi-shi, I’m afraid I simply cannot comprehend what you might refer to. This is business, as it always is between us.” Ibara presses a button on the remote control sitting on the end of the table, and the screen at the front of the room flickers to life. “But let us not waste time on meaningless details when there is a bountiful future to be had!”

Mayoi swallows. Or he tries to. Instead, it catches in the back of his throat, lodged sharp and dry, and he stifles his choking into the back of his hand.

“See for yourselves.” Ibara gestures to the slide that’s appeared on the screen, titled: ALKALOID | Crazy:B Co-Operative: Summer Mixer Extravaganza. “Following up on the grand success of Matrix, COS PRO is pleased to announce that—thanks to STAR PRO’s kind cooperation—we have negotiated a collaborative event between our two agencies. In short, you will all compete to win the grand prize, while creating a spectacle that will leave your fans enthralled.”

A wave of chatter ripples across the room.

“So Tenshouin has already endorsed this collaboration,” says Tatsumi, just loud enough for Mayoi to hear. “In that case, I believe we can be at relative ease; he would not risk his agency’s position to its largest competitor.”

“Right…” Mayoi replies, although the political positioning of their agencies is hardly the primary concern here. Collaboration and cooperation mean many things to many people, and all too often those apparently kind words come laced with intent to deceive, take advantage, or mock.

“A prize, huh?” There’s a wicked smile on Rinne’s face. “Keep talkin’, and you might raise my opinion of ya today.”

“Right!” Hiiro leans across the table, offering his fist to bump against Rinne’s. “Brother, let’s work hard to make this the best event our fans have ever seen!”

It’s so earnest, so genuine, and so very, very cute. Mayoi presses his hand to his mouth once more; the sight of it is going to make him smile, and his smiles are creepy. No one deserves to see that.

“HiMERU wishes to know how this event will be structured.” Although his arms remain folded, HiMERU’s shoulders soften slightly. “Please tell us all that we need to know, Deputy Director Saegusa.”

“All in good time, our honoured idols!” Ibara presses another button, and a flowchart appears, riddled with details and explanations in text far too small for Mayoi to read from where he’s sat. “Four teams, four rounds, one winning team, and the prize at stake: a generous share of all merchandise purchases and advertising revenue, proportional to the event’s commercial performance, naturally. In addition, COS PRO is proud to sponsor three free meals from all ES outlets every day for a year for the winning unit.”

A satisfied murmur bubbles among the ALKALOID and Crazy:B members alike; Niki in particular sits on the edge of his chair, rocking onto the front legs, eyes sparkling and his mouth slightly agape. If Mayoi squints, he’s sure there’s a bubble of drool forming at the corner of Niki’s lips.

“Excellent. I’m glad to see that our offering pleases you all.” Ibara clicks through to another dense slide. “The format is simple: Each round will feature a performance component, which will be held on the first day of each weekend. The first three rounds will additionally feature an activity component, designed to test your skills as idols, which will be held on the second day. You will then have the next week to prepare your performances for the following weekend. Any questions so far?”

“What will we be performing?” asks Aira.

A good question. This is apparently an ALKALOID–Crazy:B co-operative event, but so far there’s been no mention of exactly what this cooperation is supposed to be. Could it be that they’ll be asked to perform each other’s songs?

Mayoi’s heart rate slows a fraction. He can do that. He might be a useless human being who’s not good for much, but picking up choreography quickly is one thing he can do.

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

Mayoi uncurls his toes. They cramp. He curls them again.

“Another excellent question!” Ibara raps the slide with his knuckles. It’s still illegible, the characters morphing and blurring together into a solid wall of details and conditions and instructions that Mayoi will be expected to remember later. Then he’ll look stupid. Then he’ll be laughed at or scolded. Curling slightly forward, Mayoi folds his arms across his chest.

Apparently unaware of the issue, Ibara continues, “Each of you will pair with one member of the opposite unit to form brand-new temporary units of two. You will decide upon the pairing, name, and leadership of your new units amongst yourselves, and each week you will perform a live for our audiences to decide a winner.”

A chill grips Mayoi, freezing his joints in place. Pairing up amongst themselves? No, he must have heard wrong. They wouldn’t put him through this. They can’t put him through this. He might as well disappear back into the basement where he belongs, only to emerge when this torture reaches its conclusion.

“These lives will be based around COS PRO’s two-member units, and each of you will be free to decide which song you will perform. In the first round, you will perform from 2wink’s discography. Then, with great thanks to a certain person’s ties to the unit Double Face”—Ibara extends a hand, gesturing toward Kohaku—“we have successfully negotiated licensing from New Dimension, and they will be your challenge for round two.”

“Hey, that ain’t fair!” Rinne interjects, jamming his thumb in Kohaku’s direction. “If we’re gonna be performin’ Double Face, the odds are clearly in that guy’s favour. Is this some kinda setup or what?”

“My, my, I don’t hear you complaining about 2wink,” replies Kohaku cooly. “Or maybe you’re just that afraid of the competition.”

This is too much—too much information, too much movement, too much sound. It’s making Mayoi’s head hurt. Why can’t they all just—

“Be quiet, Rinne-kun,” Niki scolds, swallowing down the last of his snack. “Some of us are trying to listen. Of course, if you don’t wanna win the prize, you can just drop out and give your earnings to me as thanks for putting up with you.”

Ibara taps a pen against the table. “Please, esteemed idols. If I may continue: the third week you will each perform a song from Eden’s very own Adam or Eve, and the fourth and final round will feature Valkyrie. Regarding the activity rounds, your unit leaders will receive details for each of these on Hold Hands in due course.”

Ibara pauses, taking a sip from his glass of water, and the members break into anticipatory chatter. Mayoi doesn’t pay attention to their conversation, staring at his hands as he picks at the edge of the table. The wood digs under his fingernails, probing at the horizon of white and pink, a needling sensation that keeps him grounded from floating up, up, up to view the room from outside his body.

A ‘Choose your Partner’ event. He’s always hated these, even in the brief days of his life before sitting in a classroom made his heart thump and his palms sweat and his stomach writhe and twist to the point where he couldn’t face attending any more. It’s a pity for whoever ends up stuck with him, really. Or he could end up alone, the thought of being with him sending the poor, afflicted Crazy:B member begging management to form a trio instead and, upon seeing the filth they would otherwise have been partnered with, the staff will grant their request.

But that wouldn’t be so bad. He’s used to being alone. It would be embarrassing, but at least he won’t trouble anyone.

Tatsumi makes a soft sound in the back of his throat and sits there with a knowing smile, surveying the scene.

“Tatsumi-san?”

“Ah, do not worry, Mayoi-san. I simply believe that I have come to understand the Deputy Director’s intent in organising such an event.”

Mayoi has not, so he tilts his head in response.

Tatsumi shakes his head. “I wish not to spread speculation, but from my personal perspective, the scales appear balanced and just, so long as we act as instructed.” Tatsumi leans closer, lowering his voice. “Be at ease, Mayoi-san; we often find that the trials He places before us are not as insurmountable as we might at first believe them to be.”

“I’ll try to remember that…” It’s kind of Tatsumi to try to reassure him, but Ibara’s schemes are the least of his worries. No one is going to choose to work with him. Even ALKALOID didn’t choose to work with him—they got stuck with him. Then, by some miracle, they came to tolerate him and, in turn, love the living ghost placed in their midst.

But this is different.

Tatsumi always makes sense, always knows the right thing to say. If they could pair within their own unit, Mayoi could ask to pair with him, and Tatsumi would probably take pity on him and say yes. But now he has to endure four entire weeks without Tatsumi in his unit to reassure him that everything will be fine when he panics, or to explain all the things that are so complicated or overwhelming that his brain shuts them out in a static fuzz.

He curls his nails into his palm, digging the sharp tips in deep through his gloves.

“So.” Ibara turns off the slides and claps his hands together once. “If there are no further questions that I can humbly assist you with, I believe that concludes our business today. All further details will be sent to you via Hold Hands, and COS PRO staff remain ever available to answer your worthy enquiries. Before you leave today, I merely ask that you please provide the names of the pairings that you have chosen. Good luck, idols!”

Mayoi’s heart pounds, rising in his chest to become a blob blocking the base of his windpipe. Now? They’re doing this right now? He’s not even allowed to slink off to the shadows to soak in his lonesome humiliation before declaring it to the higher-ups? What a cruelty! This world truly has it out for the weak and lowly like him…

Already, Rinne and Hiiro are fist-bumping across the table, while Aira has made his way across to Kohaku, eyes shimmering as he chatters away. What a sweet look—Mayoi would sacrifice himself without question to keep it there forever. Even Kohaku looks more animated than usual, nodding eagerly in return.

How easily these things come for beings of the light…

Meanwhile, the luminescent bulb above Mayoi glares down on him, spotlighting the miserable creature below.

“Mayo-chan!” A sudden weight crushes his shoulders, and Mayoi barely manages to brace himself on the table in time to stop himself from slamming face-first into it. “Looks like it’s you and me for this one! Whoo-hoo!”

“Shiina-san?” Mayoi squeaks out. The scent of pastries invades the air while Niki’s warmth penetrates his thin cotton shirt. The heat sears into his skin, and he recoils, the afterburn lingering around his neck.

Too bright. Too warm. Too… everything.

“Hmm, I wonder what these mysterious activity stages will be,” Niki ponders, either oblivious to, or utterly unfazed by Mayoi’s reaction. “But either way, we’ve got this, right, Mayo-chan?”

We've got this? Mayoi reminds himself to breathe as he processes the whirlwind of the past three seconds.

“You… You want to be in a unit with me?” he asks slowly. 

“Of course! Delicious Mayo-chan is the best, and we’re the natural pair here, right? You bet we’re gonna win this!” Niki hums, eyes closing as he drifts off into his own thoughts. “Mmm… A whole year of free meals… Is there any better prize in the world than that?”

A natural pair… Niki says it so easily. Mayoi has never been a natural pair with anyone, apart from Tatsumi adopting him like some mangy stray. Other than that, Mayoi is an anti-pair, a strange, slimy sub-human rightfully decoupled from the clean, normal people of this world.

People like Niki.

Even his smile is like the sun on a summer’s day; it would surely blind Mayoi if he gazed upon it for too long. And now Niki is smiling again—directly at him.

Mayoi withers.

“So, we’re a team, then?” Niki bounces on his toes. It’s more a statement than a question, leaving Mayoi no escape. 

Not that he particularly wants to. Despite how overwhelming Niki can be, Niki has been kind to him from the start, cooking him refreshing things in summer, and daring to touch him so casually, as though Mayoi is not some filthy bug that can only dirty Niki’s pure hands.

And now Niki has come to him again. Niki wants to work with him, as unthinkable as the notion is.

A tightness builds in Mayoi’s throat. He swallows it down.

“If you really want to… Then I’d like that,” he manages to reply, half expecting Niki to say that actually no, he’s changed his mind, and Mayoi is on his own for this.

But with another triumphant whoop, Niki is bounding back around the room to scribble their names down on a waiting clipboard.

Mayoi lets out a long breath, hands planted on the table, trying to ground himself.

Someone really chose him.

Niki chose him.

Voluntarily.

A gentle pressure squeezes his shoulder.

“It seems that your fears were unfounded, Mayoi-san. You have found yourself a capable teammate to take care of you, and a rather eager one at that.”

Huh. He didn't say that aloud... Did he?

No, not this time.

Probably.

Regardless, Tatsumi is like that: he always knows, with or without being told. Which is good, because there are too many people crammed into this room, crowding the air, thickening it into a humid mass that clogs ‌Mayoi’s lungs, oozing through his capillaries like wet tar. He can scarcely breathe, let alone utter more than a few words.

He nods once. “I’m glad…” 

With the issue of his partner resolved, the emotion Mayoi should feel is relief. Instead, his skin buzzes and prickles, his pulse a hungering acid throbbing through his veins.

Something bad is in the air.

He glances around the room, searching for the source. Across the table, HiMERU stands, arms folded once more, eyes fixed on Tatsumi with a terrifyingly blank expression.

“Apologies, Mayoi-san,” says Tatsumi, getting to his feet. “Please excuse me while I speak to my own partner for this event.”

Tatsumi crosses the room to HiMERU, to whom he smiles, then bows lower than he should. “It looks like we'll be working together, HiMERU-san. I'm looking forward to cooperating with you.”

In return, he’s met with a single downward twitch of HiMERU’S head, and a few stilted words that are impossible to catch over the chatter from the lower end of the table.

Poor Tatsumi. Tatsumi has never told Mayoi the full story of what occurred between him and HiMERU, only the loose details of memories of a time that still sits heavy on Tatsumi's conscience, a burden that Mayoi is honoured to help him carry.

He could offer to swap partners. But that’s no good either. Niki asked him to work together and—somehow—is excited about spending time with him. Even as Rinne tries to trip him on his way back round the table, the grin doesn’t leave Niki’s face. He looks over at Mayoi as he passes Kohaku and Aira and waves again. Mayoi raises his hand in return.

Tatsumi is strong, kind, and patient; he doesn’t need someone to step in for him at every obstacle, capable of handling himself with elegance and grace. 

Tatsumi isn’t someone who needs saving.

Perhaps in this, it’s okay for Mayoi to be a bit selfish.

“It’s all confirmed, Mayo-chan!” Hands clamp down on Mayoi’s shoulders, an attack that has Mayoi yelping and clearing his seat by at least two inches. “We’re officially partners! This is gonna be so much fun! And we’re going to win this thing, right? Free meals for a year—ah, I’ve never felt so motivated!”

“I— I’ll do my best.” Mayoi wriggles free from Niki’s grip, the touch already scalding, planting his hands on the table. Cool. Solid. Now breathe. Look Niki in the eyes. Smile. Sort of. It probably looks twisted and weird, but it’s the best he can do. “I’m looking forward to this… I think…”

To his own surprise, it’s not untrue; Niki is warm, kind, and tolerant of all the disgusting, disturbing things about him. Maybe, with Niki leading their unit and Mayoi taking on his usual role of coach, they can dominate the performance rounds and Mayoi can avoid embarrassing himself in whatever the remaining activities are.

It’s going to be fine. Everything will be fine.

He can’t do it. He simply can’t do it.

It’s the next morning, and he’s supposed to be meeting Niki for their first unit meeting. Instead, he’s pressing his head against the cool concrete wall, hands planted by his ears, trying to steady his breathing while the cruel air refuses to fill his wretched lungs.

“I must say, this is an unusual meeting location, Mayoi-san,” says Tatsumi, standing beside the entrance of the storage room they are currently in.

Mayoi has been trapped here for the past hour, with only the throbbing of his pulse for company.

With a click, the door closes, and footsteps cross the room towards Mayoi. “It seems this event is causing you a great deal of distress, even more so than on prior occasions. Might I ask what troubles you so?”

Everything. Everything troubles him.

Every time he worked outside of ALKALOID before, Ensemble Square’s higher-ups were the ones placing him wherever they wanted him. If he’d said something weird, or done something weird, or messed up so badly as to ruin the entire project, the other members had the freedom to shrug their shoulders and say, “We didn’t choose to work with him. He’s not our problem. We aren’t responsible.”

But now Niki has chosen him, and that brings with it a new type of pressure. He needs to be normal, functional; he needs to live up to whatever preconceived image and expectations Niki has of him. Niki acts as though he likes him, but Niki hasn’t seen him breaking down in front of a crowd and Tatsumi having to escort him home. Niki hasn’t been around when one of his bad thoughts slips out from between his traitorous lips. Niki hasn’t seen him on the days when he can’t leave his bed, trapped under the covers—the only barrier between Mayoi and the overwhelming stimulation of the outside world.

Usually, Tatsumi covers for him, but he’s on his own now.

No one is coming to save him.

What will Niki think when he sees the ugly truth of who Mayoi really is?

“Tatsumi-san…” Mayoi says, trying to formulate the mess in his mind into a coherent sentence. “I… What if I say something weird or disgusting? Shiina-san will hate me forever…”

Even though he should. They all should.

Tatsumi places a gentle hand on Mayoi’s forearm. Mayoi draws away. Although Tatsumi hasn’t burned him for a long time now, the habit remains ingrained.

Tatsumi sighs. Great, now he’s upset Tatsumi, and he hasn’t even made it to mid-morning yet.

“Shiina-san chose to form a unit with you, didn’t he?”

“Yes?” Mayoi replies.

“Then take faith in the belief that he wishes to work with you and thinks positively of you. He is likely a little nervous to make a positive impression as well. If you approach with an open mind, things might progress more smoothly than you imagine.”

Niki? Nervous? The only time he’s seen Niki nervous was when Rinne was eyeing up the lunch he’d just ordered, hovering over it protectively like a dog at its bowl.

“And in my personal opinion,” Tatsumi continues, “although this may be improper of me, I dare say that compared to Rinne Amagi, whom Shiina-san has plenty of experience in dealing with, I am certain you, Mayoi-san, will be a delight.”

A delight? A delight?

Mayoi lets out a whine. “You shouldn’t say things like that to someone like me…”

“It is true.”

“And… and…” Mayoi scrambles, grasping for another of the many reasons that explain how his distress is entirely justified. “And what if he really tries to eat me this time?”

The image of the hungry Niki from their Matrix collaboration remains fresh in his mind: the way Niki had fixated on him, latched onto him, then chomped down on the end of Mayoi’s braid. If the others hadn’t been there, he could really have become Niki’s dinner...

Tatsumi chuckles—actually chuckles—at his misery. “I find it highly unlikely that Shiina-san intends to eat you, as lovely as you are.”

Mayoi shrivels, his breath hitching. A double attack! At this rate, it will be easier to go through with the meeting than stay here and listen to Tatsumi’s too kind words, which—in all likelihood—is exactly what Tatsumi intends.

“Have courage, Mayoi-san. Sometimes God places these trials before us, and we must consider them a gift, provided to us by Him on the path to becoming a better version of ourselves. Shiina-san is counting on you to be his reliable partner. If it would make you feel better, I can walk with you to your meeting room.”

Have courage… That is the last thing Mayoi possesses; his clammy hands keep him plastered in place, and if he takes them off of this wall, his legs will probably buckle beneath him. But Tatsumi is correct—Niki is waiting for him, relying on him. Mayoi can’t let him down, not when he’s been lucky enough to find someone willing to work with him.

Mayoi shakes his head, slowly uncoupling himself from the wall. His legs tremble, but bear his weight.

He can do this. Probably. A long breath in, which his body then expels in a tense huff.

Here goes.

“Don’t worry… I think I’ll prefer to go my way today…” A nice, quiet trip through the safety of the vents. No one yelling in his ear or bumping him as they pass, just the cool metal walls holding him in their silent sanctuary before he meets with the storm.

“As you wish. Then I will keep you in my prayers today. I wish you the best of luck, although I’m sure you will not require it.”

Mayoi would beg to differ.

~~~

Mayoi slips down from the ceiling to land in front of the meeting room, his boots cushioning the impact against the polished floor with a rubbery squeak. Signal returning, his phone vibrates in his pocket with a barrage of missed notifications.

The majority turn out to be Aira, spamming him with a flood of photographs of his latest idol merchandise haul, and Mayoi presses his fist to his mouth—it’s good to see his juniors happy. He should buy some of Aira’s most sought-after items in secret and leave them on his bed during the night. In the morning, Aira will wake to the most wonderful surprise, and Mayoi will be able to see that cute look on Aira’s face more and more…

Ah, but he shouldn’t do that. That’s a bad thing to do; Tatsumi warned him before that people find things like that strange. Wrong, wrong, wrong—why are his thoughts always so wrong?

The phone vibrates again. A message from Niki. Mayoi’s gut twists.

“heyy~~! inside waiting when you get here, i brought snacks!! (^.^)”

This is it. There’s no backing out. Mayoi raises his hand to the door and knocks. He could probably enter regardless, but that feels presumptuous, so he stands outside and waits.

He doesn’t wait long.

The door flies open.

Niki emerges in a whirlwind, grabbing Mayoi’s sleeve and tugging him inside before latching onto Mayoi’s arm.

“Mayo-chan! You’re here at last!” Then Niki’s face is far too close, within breathing distance of Mayoi’s neck as he gives a loud sniff, turning every hair on Mayoi’s nape on end. “You smell even tastier than usual today. I could just eat you all up!”

Mayoi stiffens as Niki drags him over to the table, upon which a large metal tin sits. He’s still unsure if he should take the whole “being eaten” thing literally.

“Shiina-san… You’re a little close…” he protests as Niki dumps him in the seat closest to the door.

Drawing back, Niki grins bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck. “Aww, but you just smell too good… Oh! I almost forgot—snacks! I made them myself, of course.”

Niki leans across the table to begin a bizarre wrestling match with the tightly secured lid, and Mayoi releases a long breath, attempting to roll some of the tension out of his shoulders. This is a lot. He’s been here less than five minutes and his palms are already disgustingly damp. Every breath of dry air sucks the moisture from his mouth, and he rolls his tongue around his cheeks in an attempt to re-lubricate.

There’s a sudden pop, and Niki stumbles back, lid in hand, the box remaining safely in its original position.

“Ta-dah!” Niki lifts the collection of treats, tilting them towards Mayoi, revealing a layer of elegantly decorated cupcakes and pastries. “I know you’re part of Sweets Fan Club, so I thought, what better way to show my appreciation to Mayo-chan than making a whole bunch of them to share!” He shoves the tin forward. “Go on, try one!”

“These look lovely, thank you…” Mayoi’s hand hovers over the selection. Cupcakes with perfectly swirled icing beckon him from one corner, while miniature taiyaki stuffed with various fillings swim across the centre of the tin, heading towards the dorayaki island on the other side. “I’ll take this one, if that’s really okay?” he asks, picking out a small cupcake with purple icing and some kind of edible glitter sprinkled across it.

“Mhm, I made those especially for you—I know you love the extra sweet ones the most.”

Especially for him… Mayoi’s mouth goes dry again. It’s one thing for Niki to bring snacks, which arguably benefits himself more than Mayoi, but to consider his preferences specifically when putting all this together…

Mayoi stares at the cupcake perched between his fingers.

Tatsumi is right. Niki has done nothing wrong (despite his frequent declarations of intending to eat him). Then why is he like this? Why does he still flinch and jump and stutter, while Niki bakes him cakes and treats him so warmly? Why does he have to be so rotten from the inside that Niki’s generous gestures pass straight through him, his heart refusing to capture and hold even a single one? Why can’t he be a normal person, just for once?

At that moment, Mayoi’s stomach chooses to let out a loud gurgle.

“Huh? You that hungry, Mayo-chan?” Niki cants his head to the side. “I’m supposed to be the hungry one around here, but now you’re sounding like you didn’t even eat breakfast today.” His eyes widen. “You did eat breakfast, didn’t you?”

Mayoi shakes his head. “I forgot…”

“Well, that won’t do!” Niki rummages through the tin, then two more sweet treats land on the table in front of Mayoi, another directly in his lap. “How can you forget to eat? Now maybe… No, take one of these too!” A fish is stuffed mercilessly between Mayoi’s lips. “Take as many as you want—it’s a chef’s pleasure to share good food with his friends!”

Mayoi wants to say that this ‌is plenty, far more than he deserves, but with the taiyaki lodged in his mouth, it comes out as a muffled, “Mmpf.”

It takes him a few seconds to chew and swallow it down, and it’s only when the treat lands in his stomach without it churning and twisting inside him that he realises his stomach is no longer tying itself in knots. Additionally, his fingers have stopped shaking enough for him to peel the paper case away from his cupcake, and he nibbles tentatively at the icing.

“Sooo?” Niki plops down into his seat, leaning forward into Mayoi’s space, eyes wide and unblinking. “It’s good, right?”

Mayoi bites into the sponge and his palate explodes with sweetness, the texture of air melting on his tongue. Despite the many times he’s experienced Niki’s cooking before, the utter bliss of the sensory experience steals his words away, and all he can manage is a nod and a soft, “Mhm,” in response, hoping Niki gets the message.

“I knew it! Ahh, I’m glad, Mayo-chan! And now it’s the chef’s turn to eat,” he says, already digging through the selection. “Aha! One of these, then I’m gonna have this one too, and this one…”

And so their meeting commences not with planning and strategising, but with Mayoi making his way through his singular cupcake, while Niki manages to demolish half the tin in the meantime. It’s no secret that Niki is a big eater, but witnessing the crime in real time is a revelation. Just when Mayoi thinks there is no way a human being could fit a single additional item inside of them, in fly another dozen taiyaki, Niki’s cheeks bulging as he chews with both sides of his mouth at once, eyes closed in some kind of ecstatic bliss.

Once Mayoi has finished his cupcake, he downloads the sign-up sheet from Hold Hands and starts scrolling through the rows of data they’re supposed to fill in. This manoeuvre captures Niki’s attention, who swallows down his mouthful and leans in, squinting at the screen, a half-eaten dorayaki in hand.

“Huh? There’s so much. I thought we only had to give a name and leader and we’d be done.” He takes another bite, looking between the phone and Mayoi. “So, which bit first?”

As he shuffles closer, Niki’s hand brushes the back of Mayoi’s wrist, setting his skin alight, nerves blazing down to his elbow. Mayoi snatches his arm back towards his chest, but it’s too late: his own oozing corruption spreads down Niki’s hand, consuming his pinkie, crawling along his palm, his wrist, painting Niki—kind, pure Niki—a bruised rainbow of purples, blues and black. 

Then he blinks, and it is gone.

Focus. There’s a form to fill out. 

Swallowing down the egg of nausea at the base of his throat, Mayoi zooms in. Their names are prefilled in the first section and the next item down invites them to nominate the leader for their unit.

That’s easy enough.

“You’ll be our leader, right, Shiina-san?” It’s the natural choice. Niki is charismatic, likable, and (relatively) normal. If they need assistance, he’ll be the best one to talk to the staff, too. Mayoi can help in the background; that’s where he’s best, and that’s where he should stay.

“Shiina-san, Shiina-san,” Niki mutters with a pout. “Hey, we’re unit-mates now, Mayo-chan. We should be close enough already that you can just call me Niki, right?”

Mayoi bites his lip. Technically, there’s nothing wrong with it. Niki has always called him Mayo-chan, after all. Not that he minds; to have someone to think about his existence enough to call him anything other than “bug” or “hey, worthless person” is a blessing in itself. No, the way Niki addresses him is far sweeter than a creature like him deserves.

Then if that’s what Niki wants, he’ll do it.

“Alright, Niki-san,” he tries. It feels strange, like he’s being presumptuous of their own closeness, but it feels heartless to hold Niki at a distance after the kindness he’s shown.

“Ya-hoo! That’s more like it! Now, onto business.” Niki fishes out another treat, chewing on it thoughtfully. “Say, Rinne-kun says being the leader is a big, important job, but he hardly seems to do anything. Mostly he just bosses us around and uses it as an excuse to mooch. Ugh! But really it’s just all the paperwork and communications with the higher-ups, right?”

“I think so,” Mayoi replies. “So I can add your name here, if that’s okay?”

“Huh? Me?” Niki waves his hands in front of himself, trailing crumbs across the table. “Nah, I think you’re much better at that sort of thing.” 

“I—” Him? No, he can’t. He’s not a leader. He’s barely even human. “But the leader has to speak for the unit too…”

“Don’t worry about it! Mayo-chan is the smart, reliable one out of us; all that admin and formal stuff—sounds like a job for a professional idol like you, right?”

Something in Niki’s tone sends Mayoi’s stomach crawling in on itself. “You’re an idol too…” he mutters, picking the crumbs from his cupcake case.

“Part-time idol. Full-time chef!” In a swift sleight of hand, Niki stuffs a fresh taiyaki into Mayoi’s palm and—in Mayoi’s ensuing bewilderment—snatches the phone from his hand, humming as he enters Mayoi’s name into the flashing field.

“Hey! Niki-san…” Mayoi whines.

This can’t be happening. Mayoi Ayase is not a leader. Mayoi Ayase is a shadow of a human who slinks along behind those who are actually fit for society. Someone like Niki would be a much better fit. If Mayoi is leader, everything falls on him: submitting their weekly song choice, receiving all their instructions (his fault if something goes wrong) and then dealing with those stone-faced corporate staff to explain himself with stuttering words if he does mess up.

This is cruel. This is torment. Tatsumi’s god must have noticed him during their conversation and decided to send him a punishment from Hell itself.

But Niki has other ideas.

“And done!” Niki thrusts the phone back at him. “Now, leader, what’s next?”

Hiding. Disappearing. Dying. All of those are good options right now. He could change the name back, of course, but Niki would likely just wrestle the phone off him and revert it again. It’s pointless, hopeless; he might as well resign himself to his fate and perish faster.

“Are you sure you really want me to do this?”

“Mhm! Mayo-chan is the professional—this is your speciality. My job is to keep us well-fed and full while we train!”

Fine. He’ll do it. But when he fails and everything falls apart, and he makes a terrible choice that makes them lose every round horrendously, Niki will see just how mistaken he was at this moment.

Mayoi forces himself to breathe, closing his fist in time with the passing seconds—one, two, three, four. Tatsumi says counting like that is supposed to help with anxious feelings. Mayoi wishes he had Tatsumi’s worries if a simple breath is enough to expel all his inherent flaws from his existence. How simple. How nice.

How mean. How malicious of him to think that. He really is the worst.

“Okay… So, uhm, we need to decide on a unit name first,” Mayoi says. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Hmm… Ah ha! How about the Delicious Twosome?”

Mayoi would rather not be in a unit named to remind him of his apparent edibility. Especially not with the way Niki’s eyes are shining with ravenous expectation at his own suggestion. “Ah, maybe some more ideas would be good…”

What follows is a rapid barrage of food related names that Mayoi elects to tactfully reject. Niki might like food, but it’s not a topic that particularly excites Mayoi, especially when his palms are still sticky and his intestines are strung taut inside him and why just why do the lights in here have to be so so bright? The air conditioning is too loud, too—a constant buzz that was barely noticeable at the start, but now hums in his ears like a fly he can never quite swat.

“What about Tasty Mayonnaise?” Niki suggests with a wink.

Mayoi clenches his teeth.

No no no. He’s feeling annoyed, and feeling annoyed is bad when Niki is just trying to be playful. It’s stupid, getting so worked up over what’s supposed to be a fun little name for a fun little event, but here he is, swiping absently up and down on a phone screen that grows more and more distant, his arms stretching across the table, the buzz buzz buzz of the air conditioning in his head, in his throat, in his chest.

“No? Aww, I liked that one.” Niki leans back on his chair, stretching his arms overhead. “What do ya think, Mayo-chan? Any ideas?”

And that’s the worst of it. While Niki has at least been providing input, Mayoi has nothing. Day one of being their so-called leader and he’s failed to contribute anything. A unit’s name is supposed to reflect who they are as a group or—in this case—a duo. Hiiro and Rinne have an obvious connection as siblings, while Kohaku and Aira also have their old friendship to provide inspiration. Tatsumi and HiMERU are both intelligent and eloquent; they’ll figure something out too.

Meanwhile, he and Niki are nothing alike.

While Rinne plays the rebel, and Kohaku and HiMERU both carry their own effortless aura, Niki is undeniably the sunshine of his unit. Fans love how he connects with them, how on stage he somehow finds every small, reaching hand and meets it with a smile. Other idols love his generosity and willingness to share his masterwork culinary skills, connecting with a social ease that Mayoi can only dream of.

Mayoi picks at the remaining bits of the cupcake Niki baked. Niki’s cooking makes people smile. When was the last time he made someone smile?

Mayoi is a creature of the night, destined to vents and basements and other dark places. He’s not even a star; stars, despite their isolation, sparkle and shine of their own accord, tiny beacons of light signalling to the universe, “I’m here, I’m alive. Look how I dance, even in this darkness.”

But for years, Mayoi did not sparkle, and he did not shine. He existed, a lone body floating pointlessly—unseen, unnoticed. It was only when STAR PRO thrust ALKALOID into his life—the beautiful, bright people who became his friends—that he could steal their light, reflecting it as his own.

That’s Mayoi—a lonely little moon, forever seeking that scrap of light to shine on him, so that for a few sweet moments he can be more than a dark stain on the universe.

No, he and Niki are nothing alike. How can they ever have any cohesive—

A thought clicks.

Yes, that could work. If Niki likes it and doesn’t think it’s the most stupid thing he’s ever heard.

“I have an idea,” he admits. “But it’s probably not very good…”

“Oh?” Niki leans forward, attentive. “I want to hear it!”

Mayoi swallows, bracing his knee against the table leg. “What do you think about the name Eclipse?”

“Hmm? Like that time at Overnight Outdoors Party?”

“Yes…Because Niki-san is always so bright, while I’m just…” Mayoi shrugs, an instinctive apology for his existence.

Niki makes a sound that isn’t disapproving, and the room shrinks back to its usual proportions. He did it. He made a suggestion. Even if it’s terrible, even if Niki hates it, he did something.

“Woah, I love it!” Niki nods cheerily. “See, this is why you’re the best leader for us. I just knew it!”

“You really think so?” says Mayoi. Niki likes his suggestion? He actually helped. He contributed. Maybe he’s not a dead weight in this unit after all. Mayoi focuses on the phone screen, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Then I’ll fill it in here.”

The rest of the form is simple: a few health and safety disclaimers that Niki signs without even pretending to read; the terms and conditions of claiming the overall prize; and last but not least, their song choice for the first round. For that, Niki elects Mayoi as chief decision-maker, and Mayoi suggests Heart Prism Symmetry. It’s straightforward, not too challenging for their first time working as a unit, and they’re sure to receive at least a proportion of audience votes on the song’s popularity alone.

Mayoi also volunteers to lead their training sessions, as he does for ALKALOID, and it’s the most comfortable decision he’s made all day. This is what he does best, and this is where he shines. One night is plenty for him to learn the choreography; tomorrow they will meet again to practice in earnest. 

After practice, while Niki heads straight to Cafe Cinnamon to cook his dinner and prepare for work, Mayoi returns to the Seisoukan Apartment, somehow without possessing the desire to perish immediately. Apart from Niki’s mid-morning crash, practice had progressed smoothly; Mayoi’s gloves and long sleeves kept him safe from Niki’s far too friendly touches, and miraculously Mayoi received no more threats of imminent consumption. 

Although Crazy:B usually displays a more laissez-faire approach to performances, Niki was adaptable and attentive, nailing every adjustment after only one or two attempts, taking each one with a smile. By the end of the day they synchronised together almost perfectly, leaving Mayoi searching only for subtle nuances to tweak.

As Mayoi approaches the Seisoukan Apartment entrance, a notification arrives via Hold Hands. It states that the first round’s activity segment involves the new units hosting a joint fan greet, with further details to be provided on the day. Mayoi tenses. A fan greet means people, noise, cameras, a thousand voices merging into an indecipherable mess while he’s supposed to be friendly and attentive, a functional human being who deserves to be seen by such sweet, adoring fans. He grips his phone.

But he’s done this before, with ALKALOID.

This shouldn’t be any different, should it?

Last time he was nervous, yes, but he simply sat quietly and signed while Hiiro, Aira, and Tatsumi handled the talking. Niki is good at talking. Niki is a good, charismatic, likable idol. This will be the same as before. The fans are there to look at everyone, not just him, and the crowd will probably be smaller than a mainline ALKALOID event, anyway. 

Yes, yes—he knows this, and he can do it again.

Mayoi breathes.

It’ll be fine. He can handle it…hopefully.

Despite the unwelcome news, Mayoi dredges up the will to walk to the kitchen via the corridor instead of the vents and, finding it thankfully deserted, cooks himself a simple rice dish with tea for dinner. He even remains in the kitchen after cooking, eating his meal at the large wooden table opposite the cooking area, although he first dims the lights, leaving the room cloaked in a twilight glow. His muscles ache, but pleasantly so, and the lingering haze of a hard day’s work takes the edge off his thoughts.

He’s tired, yes, but functional, far more so than he imagined he would be after a day around Niki.

As he eats, soft footfall approaches from down the corridor. Mayoi pauses mid-mouthful. Someone’s coming. He should leave; no one needs to be burdened with his presence. But then he catches the rhythm of that distinctive, slightly asymmetrical stride, and relaxes, resuming chewing. It’s just Tatsumi, and Tatsumi is the singular person he knows he won’t bother. At least he hopes he isn’t a bother. Tatsumi says he never is, and Tatsumi is an honest person, so it must be true, right?

A shadow appears in the doorway, haloed by the light from the corridor, and raises a hand in greeting.

“Good evening, Mayoi-san.” Tatsumi enters, leaving the lights dimmed as they are, and approaches to set down an assortment of conbini foods at the spot opposite Mayoi, paper bags crinkling against the tabletop. “It’s good to see you eating. I assume this means that your day with Shiina-san went well?”

Mayoi nods, swallowing his mouthful of rice before replying. “Right, it did… Niki-san worked really hard today…”

Tatsumi raises a brow as he slips into his chair. “It sounds as though the two of you may have become a little closer?”

“A little, maybe… Working with him wasn’t as scary as I thought.”

Although Mayoi took every precaution to avoid infecting Niki, all training necessitates a certain degree of tactile correction, but bizarrely, Niki had acted entirely unaffected by Mayoi’s gloom. He never once shrank from the corrupted touch that guided him, never gave a disgusted look at Mayoi’s audacity to make contact with such a pure person.

It’s no secret Niki is tactile, but how could Niki let someone like Mayoi so close so easily?

“I am glad to hear that,” says Tatsumi, twisting open a water bottle. Then he pauses, tapping his fingers against the plastic. “I must admit, I was surprised to see you take on the leadership role in your unit.”

Mayoi groans. Great. He’d almost forgotten about that. “It wasn’t my choice. Niki-san didn’t want to do it either, so he volunteered me…”

“And yet you accepted. I feel you do not see how you’ve grown, Mayoi-san.” Taking a sip from his drink, Tatsumi smiles at Mayoi, far more proudly than he deserves.

“Please don’t say that sort of thing!” Mayoi’s face burns, and he pokes at his rice, which seems suddenly more like a stodgy mass of gloop than a meal. Tatsumi shouldn’t be looking at him like that, not after Mayoi begged and pleaded with Niki to escape the fate Tatsumi is so proud of him for.

He deserves no credit for this.

“And you, Tatsumi-san?” he asks. “How are you finding working with HiMERU? I know things are a little difficult…”

Tatsumi chuckles, waving his hand absentmindedly. “There have been some minor…artistic differences. But on certain occasions, the Lord presents us with challenges designed to lead us to our own self-improvement. As such, I am maintaining faith that this is simply a chance provided to me to improve my own patience and grace, and remain grateful for such an opportunity.”

What a blessing, to have a mind so willing to move forward, rather than spinning upon the same patch of ground until all that’s left to dig up are long since putrefied bones.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Mayoi says.

Tatsumi hums softly. “Do what, precisely?”

“Everything.” Mayoi grips his chopsticks, turning his fingers—the haunted, skeletal things they are—white. “You’re always so calm, Tatsumi-san. No matter what, you always know the right thing to say or do, while all I can do is panic…”

Tatsumi smiles, but shakes his head. “I am glad that I’m able to instil that sort of impression, but still waters may yet conceal strong currents beneath their surface.”

If only Mayoi could be so lucky. His mind works more like a riptide. A strong current would be a welcome reprieve in comparison.

“There are many occasions on which I have felt far from calm,” Tatsumi continues, “but I believe that faith is what allows humans to continue placing one foot before the other, even when the path might not be visible to them.”

Of course. Tatsumi has his faith. Mayoi has never given it much thought, but he definitely doesn’t want a being such as Tatsumi’s god gazing upon a creature like himself; he would surely be purified instantaneously.

He sinks over his bowl, playing with an escaped chunk of egg yolk.

“Of course, I am aware not everyone will share my beliefs in this matter. But a person’s faith can take many forms; it is up to the individual as to what they place their faith in. Even if it is simply the faith they have in themselves.”

The top of Mayoi’s head prickles, and he looks up to Tatsumi’s kind, violet eyes watching him.

No, no, no, Tatsumi can’t look at him like that. There’s too much of that unrealistic hope there that maybe one day Mayoi won’t be a hopeless coward, forever relying on Tatsumi—and it’s always Tatsumi that he burdens—to give him these scraps of reassurance.

He needs to escape. Too much expectation. Too many ways he’ll disappoint.

Mayoi stares at his half-finished dinner, trying to formulate an escape plan. He can claim a sudden stomach-ache, or say that he forgot something in the practice room, or… No, no, no, they’re all too obvious; Tatsumi will see straight through him. What to do? What to do?

Tatsumi shifts in his seat, pulling his phone from his pocket suddenly. He holds it in front of him, his eyes remaining fixed on a single spot in the centre of the screen.

If Tatsumi is pretending to read, he’s doing a terrible job of it.

“Ah, it seems that I am being requested in my dormitory,” he says. “Apologies for leaving again so soon, Mayoi-san, but I shall leave you to enjoy your meal without my interruptions.” Tatsumi stands, slipping his phone into his pocket, not even pretending to type a reply.

Great. Now Tatsumi has to remove himself because Mayoi is too much of a coward to even run away on his own. How pathetic he is.

“Alright. I’ll see you later…” 

His untouched bags of food tucked under his arm, Tatsumi makes to leave, lingering briefly in the doorway. “And please, don’t mind my wandering thoughts. You are doing well as you are, Mayoi-san. I wish you a peaceful night and a productive rehearsal tomorrow.”

Then he is gone, those off-rhythm footsteps tapping down the corridor.

Once more in the sanctuary of solitude, Mayoi forces another mouthful of dinner past his lips. Lukewarm. Sticky and mushy. But when Mayoi skips his meals, Tatsumi makes that face that jams a burr of guilt in his chest, reminding him of how he inevitably causes nothing but concern to his friends.

Friends? Yes, friends—Niki made the same sort of face the other day, too.

Niki, who worked so hard for their unit today. 

On that thought, he should type up the notes he made during practice and send them over. That’s what he usually does for ALKALOID. Just for reference. In all honesty, Niki implemented everything Mayoi asked of him anyway, but there’s no harm in a recap.

Mayoi sips his tea, letting the earthy notes sit in his mouth before swallowing. Yes, rehearsal today was good. After the initial explosion of energy, Niki wasn’t too overwhelming, and even remained patient while Mayoi fumbled with the speaker system, helping him so kindly rather than scolding him.

It’s a strange thing to admit, but they looked good together. They’re of similar height, similar enough builds, and even their hairstyles mirror each other—it’s a cohesive image.

Niki is a much brighter idol than Mayoi, of course. If only Niki’s joyful expressions during performances came so easily to Mayoi; for him, every new performance means an hour—sometimes two—in front of a mirror, twisting his face with teeth too sharp into the emotions humanity calls joy and happiness, or whatever other expression would be appropriate.

But, like a child playing in the dirt, slapping together chunks of sticky, slimy mud, Mayoi is used to moulding himself into the shape expected of a human by now. It never holds up close, but for fans who are all too willing to see only what they want to see, it creates the idol Mayoi who sings and dances on stage from afar.

Yes, with their combined skills, their unit will do well‌.

Elbow up. Cue from the shoulder joint, like Mayo-chan instructed. Angle his hips just a bit more—

“Oh, yeah!” In the chair in front of Niki, Rinne cheers, clapping his hands overhead and whooping as his machine lights up, a cascade of metal balls descending in a clatter. “Did ya see that, Niki? Lady Luck is on our side tonight!” With another whoop, he guides his winnings into the feeder tray, which is already near overflowing with hundreds more of the stupid things.

Glaring lights flash and blink throughout the parlour, the clang of metal against metal echoing, as though someone has tossed a barrage of pots and pans into a washing machine and set the spin to maximum. The sound vibrates through the floor, through Niki’s bones, resonating with his poor, innocent insides—a cruel imitation of hunger. Behind Niki and Rinne, a group of men cheers while an electronic version of a familiar classical tune chimes in celebration. The man nearest Niki takes a long drag of his cigarette, blowing smoke that hits like dry acid on the back of Niki’s throat.

Niki holds his breath, turning away. If he inhales too much, it’s going to wreck his voice, and he has to sing with Mayoi tomorrow. He can’t sound bad in front of Mayoi, not after how Mayoi already had to correct him so much today.

Why does he let Rinne bring him out to these places? All he’d wanted to do was get home from work, whip up a snack, and go to bed. He hadn’t even been in the mood for his grand katsu adventure when Rinne had all but dragged him out of his dorm.

Mayoi’s corrections sizzle around his thoughts; he’s never come away from a practice session with so much to think about. Usually with Crazy:B they run the track until the vocals are clean and their choreography is smooth. Rinne never tells him that his elbow is too low, or that he needs to extend his arm another half inch, or that the angle of his neck is clashing with the line of his spine. Instead, he says that some natural variance is “good for the vibes”. Even so, Kohaku and HiMERU always perform so perfectly, so in sync…

Does that make him the natural variance, the one who can’t keep pace with the rest of them?

“Excuse me!” A man squeezes through the gap between the rows of chairs, a cardboard container filled with steaming takoyaki from the outside vendor in his hand.

The scent of decadent batter gives way to a dash of ginger, trailed by a lingering hint of onion, each rolling through Niki’s sinuses, lingering on the back of his tongue, a ghost of the real thing.

Niki’s stomach rumbles.

He only just ate before leaving work—this is what he gets for thinking too hard.

No snacks here, either. A quick walk, Rinne had told him, not staying up until some ridiculous hour flicking metal balls around, so he hadn’t bothered to pack any.

He tucks the toggle of his hoodie between his lips and chews it. It doesn’t help the hunger, but there’s some small relief in at least having something in his mouth.

“Oi, Niki-bastard, are you listening?” Rinne has spun round in his chair to face him.

“Hmm?” No, he was definitely not listening to Rinne screaming his way through another pachinko session.

“I said, are ya listenin’?” Rinne clicks his tongue, drumming his fingers on the back of his chair. “You’ve been acting real weird since this whole event was announced.”

“Weird? Maybe you just don’t have anything worth listening to.”

“Ow. Breaking my heart here.” Rinne pouts, clutching his chest dramatically.

Niki doesn’t indulge him. What the hell is Rinne’s game here? Usually there’s some bizarre logic to it, but forcing him out to a pachinko parlour when all he wanted to do was eat and sleep defies all reason.

“Hey, you can’t ignore me. Why’d ya ignore me all day? Huh?”

Oh. Yeah. The missed messages. Which consisted entirely of Rinne spamming him with memes and various game winnings while he was trying to work.

“I was busy. Some of us are actually taking this seriously. Say, after how Hiiro-kun treated us at Matrix, I’m surprised you had time to send all that stuff today. You didn’t stand him up for practice or anything, did you?”

Rinne cackles. “Ya think I need all day to get in sync with my very own little bro? This round is made for us, and I’m feeling lucky!”

Right. Brothers.

Niki’s gut twists, a measly vegetable being hollowed out for petits farcis.

“Aww, stop looking so glum. You afraid we’re gonna beat you or something?” A beat, then Rinne slaps the back of his chair. “Ah ha! It’s that prize that’s got ya all hung up!”

Exactly. That’s why he needs to win this thing in the first place. Niki’s stomach gnaws on itself in agreement. Still haven’t eaten. He’s going to leave soon, whether Rinne likes it or not.

Niki nods with an affirmative hum. “If we win that prize, I’m not letting a single meal of it go to waste!” The fantasy re-emerges: him going to whichever restaurant, outlet, or grocery store he pleases, emerging with armfuls upon armfuls of food, enough to finally silence the relentless static that overlaps his every thought. “Mmm… can you imagine it… Three free meals a day—every day!”

“You’re drooling.” Rinne grins, snapping his fingers. “You’re hungry, ain’tcha? That’s why you’re being such a buzzkill today! I’ll feed ya myself if you’re gonna bring the mood down like this. Whaddya want? Tell me and I’ll get it for you.”

Busted. Rinne always has him figured out. Bastard.

“Hmm, the takoyaki that other guy brought in did smell—” Niki stops before he can indulge in the thought too much. This is Rinne. If Rinne is offering something, there’s always a catch. “Actually, you’re just going to make me pay for you, you freeloader, so don’t bother.”

How sad—no free food for Niki today. But he’ll sort it out later. He can power through for now.

“Suit yourself.” Rinne shrugs, gathering his pachinko balls and getting to his feet, the bucket of clattering metal in hand. “I’m gonna go redeem this lot, then start up a re-roll with Lady Luck. Watch my spot, would ya?”

Niki slips into the chair as Rinne departs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Pressure builds behind his eyes, compounded by the lights flashing in his peripheral vision. At the next setup over, the player has somehow looped his machine into producing a rhythmic, skull-piercing beep, and the crowd behind him yells as a jackpot tumbles into the waiting tray.

From its place in his pocket, Niki’s phone buzzes.

It better not be Rinne, scrounging for more money to gamble away.

But it’s not Rinne messaging him—it’s Mayoi.

Hello. I made some notes from practice today, so I’ve attached them for you to review, if you’d like. Sorry that I’m sending these so late. Have a good night.

How polite. How considerate. Unlike a certain someone.

Practice notes? Well, it won’t hurt to check them out while he’s waiting. Hopefully, Mayoi has summarised everything into one or two easy to digest lines for him to focus on. That’s all his little brain can handle, anyway.

He opens the file, and there’s no such luck.

It’s a five-page document—an hour by hour breakdown of every movement Mayoi instructed him on. Text saturates each of those pages, each paragraph filling the phone screen in a solid block. Down, down, down he scrolls, and there’s more, more, more. His head spins as though his eyes have been attached to the end of a whisk, scrambling the text into an indecipherable blur. How has Mayoi typed everything up so quickly? How did he even remember all of this?

So many corrections. So many issues. He can’t deal with this right now. He can’t.

Tomorrow morning, he’ll get his phone to read it all to him while he’s making breakfast. Then it’ll be fresh in his mind.

He sends Mayoi a quick reply.

hey, mayo-chan, thanks~~~ got dragged to pachinko with rinne-kun (￣ヘ￣メ) will look before practice tomorrow! sleep well! ^_^

Damn, what has he gotten himself into?

“Here.” A cardboard container holding six steaming takoyaki is stuffed into his hands. Rinne leans against the chair, nodding sharply toward the snack. “Eat up, you’re miserable when you’re hungry.”

“Huh, so you can be nice.” Niki pierces the first takoyaki and pops it in his mouth without first bothering to release the steam, disregarding how it sears the roof of his mouth. It’s food, and food can’t wait. He bites down, thick sauce gliding through crispy batter, and flavour spills onto his tongue, tangy, yet fresh and somewhat sweet. Euphoric bliss tingles through every nerve, all the way down to his toes, and he swallows, his headache beginning to fade. “Mmm, that’s good… Thank you!”

“’Bout time ya showed me some appreciation. You gonna act normal now?” Rinne’s eyes narrow, and Niki averts his gaze. Is this how crabs feel before being plucked from their tanks to be made into a delicious meal? “I mean it. You’ve been giving me the creeps today, all this ignorin’ me and moping about.”

Niki throws another takoyaki into his mouth, buying time.

Yes, Rinne means it well—mostly—but there’s no way he’s dumping his entire day’s worth of insecurity onto Rinne in the middle of a pachinko parlour. Not the time, not the place, although there’s hardly a time or place that would be appropriate for his meaningless whining.

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” says Niki, swallowing down his mouthful. “Just hungry after you dragged me out without any snacks. But”—he smiles as wide as he can, holding up his next helping for effect—“I’m all fixed up now, see! Ah, there’s nothing better than good food, right?”

“Right.” Rinne gives him a hard look, then reaches across, shooing Niki out of the way to grab his own phone from where it sits atop the pachinko machine. “Come on, we’re getting out of here.”

“Thought you wanted to play a bit more?”

“Nah.” Rinne shakes his head. “Ain’t feeling Lady Luck’s blessing any more, and a master gambler like me knows when to quit! Now, come on.” He grabs Niki’s sleeve, forcing him to his feet. “Let’s get ya home.”

Niki allows himself to be led, making performative mmms and ahhs as he continues eating.

As they leave the pachinko parlour, Niki forces a stop for another round of takoyaki, which he chomps down desperately, trying to focus on the flavour, the texture, the heat which stings his tongue with every bite. Rinne continues to talk about a collection of nonsense as they walk back, although he’s not subtle about the repeated glances he keeps sending Niki’s way—glances Niki refuses to meet as he munches on his takoyaki.

No matter how many years pass, he’s still being coddled like the half-starved kid that Rinne first met a half-decade prior. Poor little Niki, whom Rinne dragged into this world of idols and subsequently built his entire career for, first as a duo, then subsequently with Crazy:B. Without Rinne, the industry would rightfully never have given him a second look.

Niki wasn’t born for this; he was born to cook. Maybe that’s why Rinne has let him get away with sloppiness for years, all the while encouraging him as an equal—sloppiness that’s readily apparent to a real idol like Mayoi.

Would’ve been nice to know all this earlier.

A few paces ahead, Rinne makes a shitty joke. Niki forces a laugh.

Niki hums as he makes his way out of the Seisoukan Apartment building, his backpack bouncing against his shoulders, stuffed with snacks ready for a hard day of training. It’s practice time with Mayo-chan!

And he’s ready to practice hard. There’s no way he’s missing out on the grand prize. Sure, his idol work pays well enough nowadays, and Cafe Cinnamon lets him snaffle the odd meal here and there, but three full meals a day, guaranteed, with no conditions or strings attached? No ifs or whens or monetary constraints? It’s an opportunity too good to let slip by.

With Mayoi leading them, their chances are high. Niki has watched ALKALOID’s performances, stood next to them on stage at Matrix. During their joint rehearsals, Mayoi had picked up the entire thing from the choreographer after a single demonstration, then spent the rest of the session helping the rest of ALKALOID with their own parts, his own execution already flawless.

It’s no wonder that ALKALOID calls him their most reliable member during lives.

Niki isn’t half as skilled as all that, but Mayoi is supposed to be a fantastic teacher; Mayoi can take care of making sure they’re prepared to beat the others, while Niki just has to do what he’s told and keep them both fed through their practices. Easy!

He crosses the courtyard, turning his face into the breeze tempering the summer haze. It carries with it the scent of an aromatic katsu dish, and even though it’s somewhat under-seasoned—an extra pinch of salt would do the trick—Niki savours it, breathing deeply to let the flavour settle on his tongue.

Delicious! Now he wants some. Tonight, after work and practice. He’ll whip up enough for everyone and take it round the dorms. Plus a dessert of some kind, of course—there’s no skimping in Chef Shiina’s kitchen!

He pulls out his phone to record himself a voice memo for later, but his fingers refuse to cooperate, trembling above the PIN entry screen. As he walks, his feet float in his boots, strangely detached from the floor, and his stomach growls.

Ah. Hungry. Again.

From his pocket, he grabs the convenience store onigiri packed there and unwraps it before stuffing it into his mouth. It’s okay—nothing special about it. The grass framing the path has recently been cut, the dead blades browning in the heat, and even that smells more interesting than the plain, unseasoned rice tastes.

At least what he has is cheap and enough to sustain him until he gets to the practice room. After that, he needs to make it until lunch, but there’s a bento box in his bag that should get him through—no, definitely, he’ll definitely get through—and once lunch hits they can go to Cafe Cinnamon and grab something.

That’s the morning taken care of.

How many hours of practice after that? Four? Five? He has snacks for the afternoon—a packet of pocky, a few yakitori skewers, a big box of fried chicken from the conbini—and it should be enough; it has to be enough until dinner, when he’ll make that chicken katsu and then his greedy, selfish body better not demand any more because he’s doing an evening shift for an important reservation at the cafe today, so that’ll be another three hours before his break and if he gets hungry by the end of that first hour...

He’ll make it. He’ll get by. He always does.

For now, it’s time to see Mayo-chan and work out how they’re going to win this Summer Extravaganza-Event-Competition-Thing!

Before long he’s standing outside the room Mayoi booked for them, the distinctive, indescribable scent of Mayoi lingering around the door. Although Mayoi’s scent is unique—sweet, yet a little woody, with a citrusy undercurrent—it’s difficult to articulate precisely what it reminds Niki of, which is peculiar in itself; any other scent, any ingredient or place or person, his memory stores as a limitless ingredient book, but Mayoi reminds him of nothing he’s experienced before.

Well, that’s not entirely true.

Mayoi is not a thing, but a feeling—bouncing a ball in the summer sun, his mother’s hand patting his head before bedtime, a hearty meal enjoyed by a table of three, each of them laughing without a worry in the world.

Nostalgia, that’s the word—those stable, peaceful times before everything went to—

Before everything.

But that's not important now. There’s a competition (and food) to be won—it’s time to get to work!

He pushes open the door. “Morning, Mayo-chaaan!” he calls as he enters, spotting Mayoi in the far corner, fiddling with the speaker system, shoulders hunched in a way that gives the impression that he’s in the middle of some indescript crime rather than preparing for a practice session.

“Shii— Niki-san.” Mayoi turns, raising his hand to shoulder level in greeting. “Sorry, I’m having a bit of trouble… This is my fault; I should have come earlier.”

“Aww, I’m sure we can fix it.” Niki bounds over to him, dumping his backpack down by the wall on the way. It’s been a whole day and Mayoi is still calling him by his given name, which is a cause for celebration. “So, what’s the problem?” he asks, throwing an arm over Mayoi’s shoulders. As he leans in, Mayoi’s scent fills the air, and he can’t resist inhaling deeper. “And how do you always smell so good? Hey, if we don’t win, I’m just gonna have to eat you instead!”

“Please don’t eat me,” Mayoi all but whimpers, slipping out from under Niki’s arm to stand a solid metre apart. He pulls at his sleeve, turning his attention back to the speaker. “It won’t connect; I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong…”

“Huh, let me see.” Niki leans in, poking at the buttons and switches, checking them in turn. However, his focus remains half split on Mayoi, on how as Niki moves across the machine towards him, Mayoi backs away, maintaining that static distance between them.

A shame—just as it seemed like they were getting somewhere, too.

Mayoi is the most puzzling human he’s come across, which is saying a lot, considering Rinne’s very existence. But Rinne has his ways and his patterns, and Niki is well rehearsed with his performance. Mayoi, however…

On one occasion when Niki had forgotten his snacks, his stomach growling and the world tilting upon itself as he attempted to make it to the nearest vending machine, a guardian angel had found him, heralded by that same nostalgic scent, followed by a hand appearing from an open ceiling panel to toss down a handful of snacks. After he’d eaten, Niki looked up to thank his saviour, but Mayoi was already long gone. It was an unnecessary kindness, carried out with no expectation of reward or gratitude—kindness for kindness’ sake. Nor was it the last time that a similar exchange occurred, a series of gestures Niki had taken as an offering of deeper friendship.

“Ah, here, Mayo-chan, look—someone turned the Bluetooth toggle off.” Upon discovering the offending switch, Niki flicks it back on, and the sound system chimes in agreement. “You should be able to connect it now.”

Phone in hand, Mayoi steps forward, and Niki steps back.

It doesn’t make sense.

Mayoi’s actions towards him have been kind, yes. But whenever Niki tries ‌to return them, to meet Mayoi with a friendly touch or light banter, Mayoi pulls back, leaving Niki with an empty outstretched hand. It’s like being surrounded by the perfect ingredients to make the perfect recipe, only whenever he opens the containers, everything is empty inside, leaving him standing there with nothing to cook with.

“Sorry again,” Mayoi says, eyes to the ground. “I should have checked that one first.”

“Nah, it’s not your fault; no one’s supposed to touch that one. Cheer up, Mayo-chan! Just because you put the oven on a bit late, it doesn’t mean the whole meal is ruined—what’s a few minutes in a day, hmm?”

“Thank you for being patient with me…” Mayoi glances up, their eyes meeting for a fraction of a moment. There it is, that fleeting promise of connection, and then it’s gone again, Mayoi tip-tapping away on his phone to set up the music.

This is too confusing. He needs a snack. That’ll help.

One bento box later, Niki feels much better. Food fixes everything; he thinks too much when he’s hungry, and thinking is better saved for people with better brains than his. Cook, dance, sing—that’s all he needs to do.

“It’s ready,” says Mayoi, pressing the final button on the speaker system and moving to stand in the centre of the studio. “You probably know the routine already, but for ALKALOID I usually demonstrate first, if that’s alright… It’s mostly mirrored, so I’ll do your part, and you can see how mine fits around it when we start together.”

“That works for me. Show us what you’ve got!”

This time Mayoi gives him a small smile in return and a bashful rounding of his shoulders. Then, with a click, the track begins, and Mayoi hits the starting position.

Niki leans back against the wall, his stomach full and his mind calm once more.

Niki is Niki. Mayoi is Mayoi, and Mayoi’s company is peaceful, which is a welcome change in itself. There’s no need to overthink things; he’s here for fun, to enjoy some time with his friend, and to win those free meals. What does it matter if Mayoi confuses him sometimes? A lot of things confuse him; it’s just more of the same at the end of the day.

Mayoi runs the routine flawlessly, bounding between the steps, his face animated, enticing an invisible audience to play along with him. There’s nothing too difficult; it’s a fun track with a few moments of intricate arm choreography, but nothing more complex than what Crazy:B has asked of him. They’ve got this—one year of free food, coming right up!

“I hope that helped a bit…” Mayoi approaches, his left hand cradling his opposite elbow, and he makes eye contact for a split second before his gaze drops to the floor. “Shall—shall we start?”

“Let’s do this!” Niki hops to his feet, sealing the bento box and stowing it in his bag.

Together, they come to stand in the centre of the room, facing the mirror.

“We’ll start from the top,” says Mayoi, “without music the first time. I can count us.”

Niki nods, moving into his starting position.

But Mayoi doesn’t start counting.

“Uhm, Niki-san, your leg is a little…” Mayoi taps his heel against the floor. “The twist is more from the hip.”

The mirror agrees with him. While Niki doesn’t look bad on his own, Mayoi is right; side by side, Mayoi’s leg turns out further than his, creating a smooth line that’s elegant without demanding attention. As Niki adjusts to match Mayoi’s instruction, his muscles complain at the strange angle he forces them into, but the mirror congratulates him with a perfect pose identical to Mayoi’s.

Huh. Maybe he can do this.

“That’s great.” Mayoi nods to him. “Then I’ll count us in.”

Mayoi does just that, and they work their way through the start of the track. As he dances, Niki keeps watch on Mayoi’s lead; while he watched the MV a few times the night before, he doesn’t have it as well memorised as Mayoi, who has somehow perfected both of their parts in ‌a single evening. Every movement Mayoi makes is precise, controlled, efficient, and his expression is sharp and focused.

“Ah, sorry, just here…” Mayoi initiates a pause and approaches. “Sorry,” he says again, a gloved hand tilting Niki’s elbow up a fraction of an inch, then he gestures along Niki’s arm, tracing an invisible line. “You…you’ll want to line up here; at this point you’re facing away from me, so if you cue the movement that way, it’s easier for us to maintain symmetry.”

Niki nods. “Right.”

This is so professional. Mayoi is so professional. It’s unbelievable, watching him transition into this smooth, mentorship persona, like somehow pulling a fully baked cake from a bag of rice.

He needs to be professional, too. Or as close as he can get to it.

Practice is relentless. Mayoi is relentless. At his command, they run specific sections of the track over and over, Mayoi correcting him, twisting and pulling him, making subtle adjustments that stretch Niki’s muscles in ways he didn’t know they were capable of.

Faintly, Niki’s stomach rumbles. He should have eaten half an hour ago. But although worded kindly, Mayoi’s corrections are an endless torrent; lines, expressions, gestures—Mayoi picks up on it all, as strict with himself as he is with Niki. Yet regardless of how many times they restart, Mayoi remains composed, only a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead, while Niki pushes closer and closer to his limit. He should eat. But he needs to get this right.

His hands are shaking, and his tongue sticks dry to the roof of his mouth. Having Hiiro drilling them for that short time during Matrix had been one thing, but this is on another level.

“Just—just a moment…” It hits him in the middle of a section, the room pitching to the side, as though he’s a mere block of meat being flipped in a pan, and his head is suddenly heavy on his neck. He presses his hands to his thighs, taking several deep breaths, begging the room to stop spinning. Should've stopped earlier. Shouldn’t have pushed it this far. Stupid.

“Niki-san?” Mayoi stops and rushes over, one hand hovering over Niki’s arm. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he pants, the taste of dried-out saliva thick on his tongue. He forces a smile. “Just hungry… grabbing a snack.”

He stumbles over to his bag, all but crawling the final few metres, and dredges up an energy bar from its depths while chugging the bottled water he left beside it.

“Sorry, I forgot! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Mayoi scuttles along behind Niki, lingering at his side while he eats. “I should have remembered, should have checked in…”

“Huh? No, no, it’s not your fault, Mayo-chan! I was just having too much fun practicing with you, hehe. Don’t you worry! I’ll be alright after this!” He bites down on the bar, giving Mayoi a big smile to prove his point. Mayoi doesn’t need to be worrying about silly little things like Niki’s stomach; he’s already taking on coaching and leading their unit, all the while performing as perfectly as he has been today.

He doesn’t need his unit-mate dragging him down.

Niki tries to focus on the energy bar, but all he can taste is salt from the lines of sweat that have rolled past his lips, and he ends up shoving it—plus a second one—down as fast as he can. He’s still half empty—always is—but it’ll have to do.

“Alright!” He jumps to his feet, heading back toward the middle of the studio. “I’m ready when you are!”