Two weeks had passed since Kaede and Mirei had started their trainee journey at Starlight Entertainment. It was everything Kaede had imagined—demanding, exhausting, and filled with moments that tested her both physically and mentally. Every day felt like a race against time, trying to improve fast enough to keep up with the other trainees, all while balancing her schoolwork. It was hard. Much harder than Kaede had anticipated.
The number of trainees had already dwindled. A few of the girls had quit after realizing the intensity of the program. Kaede, however, pushed on, refusing to give up despite her struggles. Her biggest challenge was dancing. The moves that seemed to come so naturally to others felt awkward and stiff when she tried them. While some girls, like Yukina, had trouble with their singing, Kaede felt like she was the one always lagging behind when it came to dance.
Mirei, of course, was different. Kaede couldn't help but admire her friend. Mirei had a natural balance—she was skilled in both singing and dancing, moving with an ease that made it clear why she had been popular idol back then. Every time Kaede looked at her during practice, she's admiring her. Mirei wasn't perfect, but she was close, just needing to polish her style to match the idol group concept that would eventually take shape. There was already a professionalism in Mirei, even though she was still just a trainee like the rest of them.
Still, even Mirei wasn't immune to the pressures of trainee life. One evening after practice, as they were heading home, Mirei had admitted to Kaede, "I'm exhausted, too. This isn't easy for any of us."
That simple confession had comforted Kaede, knowing that even someone as talented as Mirei was struggling. But there were days when the pressure felt unbearable, when it felt like Kaede was being crushed by the weight of her own expectations.
On weekends, they had practice for hours, sometimes even longer than on weekdays. The professional teachers they trained under were relentless, pushing the trainees to their limits. It was all part of the process, but Kaede often found herself feeling like she was on the edge of breaking. Some days, the exhaustion was so overwhelming that her body seemed to refuse to cooperate.
It was on one such day that everything came crashing down.
Kaede was at the dance studio, her muscles sore from the relentless hours of practice. She had barely slept the night before, spending most of it worrying about whether she could keep up with the others. She kept telling herself to push through, to prove to herself that she belonged here, but her body was screaming at her to stop.
All day, she kept getting the choreography wrong. Over and over again. Every move felt like a battle. Her feet were out of sync with the music, her arms were clumsy, and she couldn't remember the sequence no matter how hard she tried. The dance instructor was getting visibly frustrated.
"Kaede!" the teacher snapped. "You've been making the same mistake all day. Focus!"
Kaede bit her lip, the sting of embarrassment creeping up her throat. She knew she was messing up, and the more the teacher yelled, the worse she felt. Her hands started to tremble, and her mind was a whirlwind of negative thoughts. I'm not good enough. I'm going to be cut. I'm going to fail.
By the end of the practice session, Kaede was furious with herself. She had been the worst in the class today, and the teacher had been visibly disappointed in her performance. As the other girls packed up their things to head home, Kaede lingered in the studio, staring at her reflection in the mirror. The exhaustion in her eyes, the slump of her shoulders, the tightness in her chest—everything felt too heavy.
Without saying a word to anyone, she stayed behind to practice alone. She couldn't leave like this. She needed to get it right. She ran through the choreography again and again, her legs aching with every step. But no matter how hard she tried, her body refused to cooperate. Each mistake made her angrier, and soon she was practicing more out of desperation than determination.
She didn't notice Mirei had stayed behind until she heard her soft voice behind her. "Kaede… you need to stop."
Kaede froze, panting and wiping the sweat from her forehead. She turned to see Mirei standing at the doorway, concern written all over her face.
"I can't," Kaede said, her voice cracking with frustration. "I keep messing up, and if I don't get this right, I'm going to get cut. I don't want to fail, Mirei."
Mirei walked over to her, shaking her head gently. "Kaede, you're exhausted. You're not focusing anymore. You need to rest."
"I can't rest," Kaede shot back, her voice rising. "I'm already behind. I can't afford to stop."
But Mirei didn't back down. She grabbed Kaede's shoulders and looked her in the eye. "Listen to me. If you keep pushing yourself like this, you're going to break. You need to take care of yourself. This isn't just about working hard, it's about working smart. You're too tired to practice right now. You'll only make it worse."
Kaede felt her frustration bubbling over, her emotions swirling dangerously close to the surface. She stared at the floor, her throat tightening, her chest heaving as she fought back the tears.
"I don't want to leave," Kaede whispered, her voice trembling. "I'm afraid that if I don't get better, I'll be cut. I don't want to lose this. I don't want to lose… you."
The last words came out in a soft, broken voice, and Kaede felt the tears spill over, her frustration finally giving way to the overwhelming fear and anxiety that had been building inside her for weeks.
Without hesitation, Mirei pulled Kaede into a tight hug. She wrapped her arms around her friend, holding her close as Kaede's shoulders shook with quiet sobs.
"You won't lose me," Mirei whispered, her voice gentle and soothing. "You won't lose this either. You're stronger than you think, Kaede. I know it's hard, but you're doing amazing. You just need to take it one day at a time."
Kaede didn't say anything, letting herself be comforted by Mirei's warmth. For a moment, she allowed herself to be vulnerable, to let go of the pressure she had been carrying. The tears came freely now, and Kaede buried her face in Mirei's shoulder, unable to hold them back anymore.
Mirei didn't let go, even as the minutes passed. She stayed there, holding Kaede, her hands gently rubbing circles on her back in a quiet gesture of reassurance.
"You're not alone in this," Mirei whispered. "I'll help you. Tomorrow, we'll practice together, okay? We'll figure this out. But for now, you need to rest. You're going to be okay."
Kaede nodded, her tears slowly subsiding. She clung to Mirei for a few moments longer, drawing strength from her friend's unwavering support. She didn't know what the future held, but at that moment, she felt a little less afraid.
With a shaky breath, Kaede pulled back and wiped her eyes, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. Mirei smiled at her, her eyes full of warmth and understanding.
"Thank you," Kaede whispered, her voice still thick with emotion.
Mirei grinned and gave her a playful nudge. "What are friends for?"
Kaede smiled weakly, grateful beyond words. As they left the studio together, the weight on her shoulders felt just a little bit lighter. No matter how hard things got, as long as Mirei was by her side, she knew she could keep going.