The next day, Stras Agency, B1 Practice Room.
About twenty minutes before Haruka arrived, someone was already waiting here.
Misuzu Kanzaki sat on a folding chair in the corner of the practice room, holding two files in her hands.
She was forty-one years old, lean, with a straight back.
Her hair was neatly tied in a low ponytail, and she took good care of herself, not looking at all like someone in her forties.
She wore a black track jacket and gray yoga pants, with a pair of professional indoor dance shoes on her feet.
At Stras Agency, her position was Chief Instructor of the Training Department.
She was responsible for the dance training, physical management, and stage performance guidance for all the agency’s entertainers.
Her experience was an anomaly in this industry.
She studied Sports Medicine in college, and after graduation, she worked for five years at a Sports Rehabilitation Center, specializing in post-injury recovery training for professional athletes.
At twenty-seven, a chance opportunity brought her into contact with dance training in the idol industry.
She discovered that the way idols used their bodies had many similarities to athletes, but almost no one in the industry used Sports Medicine knowledge to systematically manage idols’ bodies.
She had been sent to learn ballet by her mother since childhood, and she danced through high school, so she still had the foundation.
So she picked up her dance shoes again and obtained the Japan Dance Association’s instructor qualification in less than two years.
After that, she worked as an external lecturer at several agencies for a few years, teaching dance while gaining experience.
From sports rehabilitation to stage choreography, she had forged herself from a “rehabilitation therapist who could only read CT scans” into a dual-skilled instructor who “could both read scans and choreograph.”
After accumulating enough experience and reputation, she was recruited by Shinji Kirishima and had been working here for seven years.
One of the files she was holding was a copy of Hoshino Haruka’s admission examination report.
She received this file on the morning after the car accident.
At that time, Ritsu had specifically called her:
“Meihe, please evaluate how Haruka’s physical condition will affect her future training.”
She was sitting at her desk at the time.
The news of Haruka’s car accident also tightened her heart, but out of professional duty, she still read the file carefully.
However, the more she read, the more alarmed she became—
Left fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh rib fractures, with fragments from the fifth and sixth ribs penetrating the pleura.
Splenic rupture, Grade 4.
Left distal radius comminuted fracture.
Right temporal linear skull fracture.
Right temporal epidural hematoma.
Suspected diffuse axonal injury (DAI).
She had a background in surgical rehabilitation, so she didn’t need to translate these terms—she could directly reconstruct the images in her mind.
Each line corresponded to a certain type of trauma, a certain level of pain, a certain degree of danger.
When she read “splenic rupture, Grade 4,” her heart skipped a beat.
Grade 1 is a superficial laceration that can be treated conservatively.
Grade 4 means extensive parenchymal rupture of the spleen, usually requiring emergency splenectomy.
If it were Grade 5… that basically meant the spleen had shattered.
Plus multiple rib fractures and intracranial hemorrhage—
Based on her experience at the rehabilitation center, this report pointed to only one conclusion: the end of a career.
At that time, she had prepared for the worst—not “Haruka can’t dance anymore,” but “Can Haruka even get out of bed?” or even “Can Haruka survive?”
And then, a miracle happened.
One month later, Haruka was discharged from the hospital.
The second file at her hand was Haruka’s discharge report.
She had been reading the data in it over and over since yesterday—the degree of fracture healing far exceeded expectations, the spleen had repaired well, the intracranial hemorrhage was completely absorbed, and all physiological indicators were within normal range.
She placed the discharge report and the admission report side by side and was silent for a long time.
‘…Idols’ bodies are truly amazing.’
That was the conclusion she finally reached, though she didn’t quite believe it herself.
There indeed exist case reports in the field of Sports Medicine about young athletes recovering at speeds beyond normal.
This is mainly reflected in high growth hormone levels, strong cell regeneration ability, and bones that are not yet fully calcified, thus having higher repair elasticity.
But even considering all these factors, Haruka’s recovery speed was far beyond the reasonable range.
But just because something can’t be explained by medicine doesn’t mean it can’t be accepted.
The human body itself is the most complex system, and anomalies exist at the tail end of every Gaussian distribution.
Haruka might just be an individual at that extreme tail.
Or in simpler terms, a “miracle.”
But whether it was the result of modern medicine or an impossible miracle, at least Haruka was safe and sound.
That was enough.
Now, she needed to focus on what to do next.
She had originally planned to let Haruka rest for at least half a month to a month after discharge, then start from the most basic physical assessment and step by step formulate a rehabilitation training plan.
First restore daily activity ability, then basic physical fitness, then basic dance movements, and finally complete choreography and stage performance—the entire cycle conservatively estimated to take three to six months.
But yesterday, Ritsu sent her a message—
“Haruka has been discharged. Her physical condition is better than expected. The agency needs to push forward with her comeback preparations as soon as possible. Can you arrange a rehabilitation assessment?”
“I need to see Haruka’s examination report first before making an assessment. She’s only just been discharged. Logically, she should be allowed to rest for a few more days.”
“As soon as possible.”
She frowned when she saw those two words, but quickly let it go.
Ritsu’s “as soon as possible” contained too many things, but the core meaning was still—the industry waits for no one.
Idols all have a “shelf life.”
This shelf life doesn’t mean they “expire” after a certain age—there are plenty of idols active in their twenties and even thirties.
Rather, in a highly competitive market, the difference between being absent for one month and being absent for six months has an exponential impact on public memory.
A one-month absence, fans will wait.
A two-month absence, fans will become anxious.
A three-month absence, the general public will forget.
A six-month absence—
Someone else will be standing in that position.
Although she personally thought they should wait a bit longer, she still agreed to do the assessment today.
“But it’s only an assessment,” she emphasized in her reply to Ritsu.
“Not training. I need to see what state her body is in now before formulating a follow-up plan. With such serious injuries, no matter how good the recovery, starting high-intensity training right away won’t work.”
Ritsu replied with one word: “Okay.”
—
The door to the practice room was pushed open.
Haruka tiptoed in, peeking around like a thief.
Today, she was wearing the practice clothes provided by the agency—a black sports vest, dark gray leggings, and white indoor sports shoes.
Her hair was tied in a high ponytail, and the gauze on her forehead had been replaced with a smaller band-aid.
The moment she saw Meihe, her eyes lit up.
“Meihe-sensei!”
In the LINE message this morning, Ritsu had told her in advance, “The person in charge of the afternoon assessment is Misuzu Kanzaki. Just call her Meihe-sensei.”
“Long time no see, Haruka.”
Meihe stood up and looked her over.
“You look like you’ve recovered well.”
“Hehe, thank you, sensei!”
“Don’t ‘hehe.’”
Meihe’s tone wasn’t harsh but was very direct, like an unsharpened blade.
“Today is a rehabilitation assessment, not training. I need to understand the true state of your body right now. So don’t push yourself. If you can’t do a movement or feel uncomfortable, say it directly. Understood?”
“Understood!”
“Good, start with warm-up.”
Haruka began her warm-up—stretching, joint exercises, simple jumping and running.
Meihe observed from the side, occasionally correcting her movements.
“Don’t let your knees cave in.”
“Relax your shoulders.”
“Keep up with your breathing.”
Ritsu stood outside the glass door of the practice room.
Through the glass, he could clearly see what was happening inside.
He leaned against the wall, phone in hand handling work, but his gaze occasionally drifted through the glass toward the two people in the practice room.
After the warm-up, the formal assessment began.