date posted: 2021-08-01
summary: Mizuki decides that she’s no better than the fans at times, when it comes to the girl behind the idol.
word count: 2,110 words
notes: assume this is a no-covid au, the thought of writing in face masks was too depressing to go through with lol
also zukky causing her nerves to jump from accidentally changing her music to something very different is something i’ve done multiple times in recent memory
akb references for wizones/kpop fans in the end notes
Even around the eye-searing studio walls, Hitomi’s hair stood out like a star. Or maybe a lighthouse, Mizuki wonders, even if she had nobody to guide. She thinks she can always see that bright blonde color out of the corner of her eye, no matter where she is in the room.
But, with her gaze strained on her phone screen, letting the long bits on the sides of her bangs fall forward, the other girl’s hair only seems to blind brighter from the corner of her eye.
Granted, Mizuki isn’t actually in the practice room, at least now. The summer weather tones down its nastiness the closer it is to evening — even with the humidity threatening to destroy the ponytail she just retied again — and it was nice, standing outside the practice room, giving herself the time to breathe, time to catch up, before she went down her route home. She lets her thumb fall to her screen lightly, scrolls through her apps, her playlists.
The approaching dusk, however, only made Hitomi’s hair blind brighter next to her. Mizuki thinks it’s both muted and vivid — The blanketing night tones picked at the rising moonlight, but the overhead street lamp fixed from the close side of the building illuminated the both of them. Even with half her attention engulfed by her phone, and the shuffle playlist rumbling quietly from the earbud hooked atop one of her ears, Mizuki thought Hitomi stood out even more than she did in the middle of that studio, where her blonde put her in the center even from the corner back row.
Maybe she’s just getting ahead of herself.
Sometimes, despite her own anxieties about her image and performances, her worries about the in-between of her best and worst — Mizuki decides that she’s no better than the fans at times, when it comes to the girl behind the idol. Sometimes, even with the job, and having the same experiences, she thinks she fails to really know anyone. Know her coworkers, her teammates, her friends in the job. Her groupmates. It’s easy to fall into the blanket mindsets the fans give the idols, but harder to break away from that.
She thinks she can name a few of Hitomi’s qualities, maybe. She knows the girl is cutesy and warm, but blunt and sharp-witted. Straight to the point. Hitomi almost reminds her of Naamin a little, she thinks. Naamin is similarly blunt at times, almost to a fault.
Hitomi is also a good performer, she’s observed. Her time in Korea did her a lot of good, Mizuki thinks — though she can only recall a few instances when she practiced with the girl, years ago, let alone perform. Mizuki recalls her stumbles on the lesser known choreographies, the ones they had little time to get down before having to put them to use, in the theater, in concert, anywhere. Choreography has always come easy to Mizuki, but she’s seen how other members struggle at times.
She wants to help, tries to help. But, as she’s found: the choreo is the easy part. The explanation, the demonstrations — not so much. Something she needs to work on, she remembers — one of the faults she keeps filed away somewhere in her mind, somewhere tightly bound to her other faults, but a disorganized space all over.
Detachedly, she jumps at the abrupt change in song, away from the calmer melodies that hummed through her earbuds before, and the EDM blares right through, somehow so loud — did she accidentally mess with the volume settings in the app? Did she configure them at all? — and at that, Mizuki thinks she can almost feel her heart rate spiking higher than during practice, not even half an hour ago. Her hand shoots up to her earbud microphone, squeezing the middle pause button, and she doesn’t think she’s ever felt this relieved for an earbud mic before this.
She’s glad she caught herself before she yelped, or something, but she realizes she still jumped, and she can still feel herself holding air in her lungs, and her eyes darted to the girl beside her, and — yeah.
Mizuki quickly exhales, wishes desperately she went home instead of resting outside the studio, wishes she asked Nana or someone else to catch her up on the schedule so she wouldn’t be here right now, and takes another look at Hitomi, who looks significantly less surprised than Mizuki expected she would, but still with an element of concern, and Mizuki is still wishing she was anywhere else right now.
God, she should’ve just stuck to her friends — she adjusts the earbud above her ear, brushes some of the hair falling out of her ponytail behind her other ear, tries to calm down just a little more, pretends (hopes) that Hitomi has just moved on. Why is she overthinking this?
And yet, she hears Hitomi mumble a little, “Uh, are you ok?” from next to her, still with that thinly veiled look of concern of hers, and Mizuki really wishes she were anywhere else right now, wishes she didn’t have to talk to someone she doesn’t know how to talk to, how to even approach.
But still, Mizuki blinks, and gives a little, “Yeah, I just, uh, tapped the wrong button on the player, kind of surprised myself,” along with a slight chuckle. Mizuki stares into the pause button at the bottom of the screen, where the loud playlist sat atop it, kind of like an algorithmic threat. She doesn’t even like loud music all that much, except in performances.
Hitomi, though, is still looking at her, she notices. “What about earlier, though? You were zoning out a bit during practice. Kind of spacey, the whole time.”
Her bluntness does remind her of Naamin, now. Maybe a bit too much in this instance. How does she even react to that?
She opts to clear her throat. “Ah, I — uh. I’m alright, just unfocused today, I guess,” she pauses for a breath, tries to gather her thoughts, and thinks the best way to end that is with an, “I’ll be sure to do my best next time. It’s ok.”
Hitomi, thankfully, seems to have taken that for an answer, with how she’s relaxed her shoulders somewhat. Mizuki’s starting to second guess herself on her thoughts about not knowing the girl behind the idol — this Hitomi reminds her of the idol Hitomi she watched in all those IZ*ONE videos, more than the other idol Hitomi that comes out during each practiced performance in the studio. Or she could be projecting that image onto this Hitomi. Maybe this is too weird for her.
Mizuki’s sideglancing the street that starts down her route home when the other girl interrupts her thoughts.
“I really liked your dancing during practice today. You’re very sharp, but your expressions are so lively. It’s hard to balance, isn’t it?” Mizuki can see her hesitate, and maybe the ghost of a smile, before she finishes with an, “Ah, sorry if this is out of nowhere. It’s just something I noticed.”
Hitomi’s smiling at her, a fuller smile, not a fading one, and Mizuki thinks she feels her anxiety rising again.
“Oh, uh — I really appreciate that, thank you,” She smiles, tries to make it seem less nervous than she feels, “Um, I really liked your expressions too during practice. You looked really focused, and your moves were so refined too. It’s really admirable, to me.” Mizuki releases a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and she feels less like her heart is racing — or at least, like it’s racing at a slower pace.
Hitomi gives a little chuckle. “Ah, it’s funny you say that — I’ve been so worried about my expressions for the longest time. I always think I’m focused too much and forget to actually emote while on the stage. It’s a fault of mine.”
The other girl moves to put her phone in her pocket, and leans her shoulder against the building wall. Mizuki notices the few charms dangling from the pocket her phone went in, and wonders what the little chibi characters are from — besides the obvious Sanrio charm.
She shifts her weight to her other foot, takes some of the pressure off her sore ankle, and inhales slightly. “I think it sets you apart in AKB, though. Since we’re all doing our best smiles, seeing someone who is so focused on their performance must stand out to the fans. I think it’s a unique trait of yours.” Mizuki smiles again, less nervous, but still a controlled smile. Hitomi’s focus is something Mizuki’s noticed before — watching IZ*ONE performances, seeing Hitomi so concentrated on delivering the right moves. She thinks she might be off though — it’s not as if Hitomi rarely smiles on stage. But when she does, though, Mizuki thinks it beams so bright, it almost distracts from her performance. But that’s something she can keep to herself.
“That’s a nice way to put it, I don’t think I’ve thought about it from that perspective,” Hitomi blinked, her face flushing lightly. “This new dance is so taxing, though. I’m afraid I won’t be able to get the choreography down right, let alone try to emote at all on the stage, hah.” Her subsequent soft laugh sounds a little shaky, and Mizuki feels herself in that sentence all too much.
“It’s… it’s a lot, definitely. I can’t recall an AKB choreography this difficult in a while. It’s a bit of a wake up call to us, I guess? So it’s also a good challenge. I just hope we can keep up with it as a group, even if it takes a while to get it down.”
The new choreography has been controversial. On one hand, she’s heard sentiments from other members that they don’t mind the difficulty, see it as an appropriate challenge for the group — on the other, some are wondering if it’s worth the effort, worth so much time and energy for a few performances. Mizuki sees herself agreeing more with the former — she likes to challenge herself, and challenges herself all the time with her job as an idol. But — the latter resonates deeper, and it leaves her wondering if she has it in her to give her best efforts, for the group.
Hitomi is looking at her again, still with that soft smile of hers, but Mizuki feels a different energy from it too, an almost bittersweet one.
“I’ve been nervous about it. So soon after IZ*ONE, I feel so unsure of my abilities now, after these years in the group. AKB feels so far from me, right? I want to give it my all, but I’m not sure what my all is now, after being away,” The smile fades, and Mizuki sees wistfulness in its place, uncertainty.
“I don’t intend on graduating, not anytime soon. But I’ve been thinking about my place in the group now, and it’s an aimless road to me.”
She’s about to respond when the door beside them opens, another group of girls exiting — she assumes they’re from another floor of the studio, with none of their faces ringing a bell for her. Hitomi startles and turns around, before nudging Mizuki backward and away from the group.
“Which way do you walk home? We can go together, maybe.” She offers, and Hitomi points the same way down that her route follows.
“I take the train down that way. I’m not that far from here, just a few stops. Do you go the same way?”
“Probably, I also take the train. I guess we can ride home together, if you want,” Mizuki says, and tries to conceal her excitement over this, as childish as it seems — she almost feels like she’s met a new girl at school, and they’ve realized they take the same way home. Which, well, when she puts it that way, it’s nearly the same situation, which makes it somehow weirder.
Hitomi nods along, and they continue down the sidewalk — Mizuki notices how the streetlights have brightened, and wonders how long it’s been since she started talking to Hitomi. It’s been nice, she decides, even though it started with her embarrassing herself in front of a girl she admires so much.
Mizuki wonders if she should pick up the thread left hanging from before, when Hitomi decides to start new.
“You were the center of the last single, right? I haven’t kept up with AKB much since I was so busy in IZ*ONE — how was it centering for the first time?” Hitomi grins, and Mizuki feels her heart jump — in excitement, in anxiety, in everything.
notes: theater - akb (and most of the sister groups) has a theater where the members perform for fans. its a little confusing sorry lol
“the dance” - referencing the choreography to akb’s upcoming single nemohamo rumor. I recommend watching the performance but for context, this is like, the hardest choreo akb’s ever done for a main single, anything else they’ve done pales in comparison except for maybe uza and no way man