Haruka hummed the song, YOASOBI’s “Idol.”
Only, after finishing that last line, no one chimed in with “You’re my savior” from the crowd.
Instead, Haruka herself provided her own “accompaniment” in a deep, booming voice.
This was a single YOASOBI released in 2023, which became a massive hit as the theme song for the anime Oshi no Ko.
The song tells the story of an idol who weaves a perfect image using lies and performance.
Every lyric reveals the cruel yet romantic proposition: “The essence of an idol is performance.”
For Matsumoto Hidetoshi, this song had a dual meaning.
First, as an anime fan, he genuinely loved this song back in the day.
It was catchy, and he also really liked the anime at the time.
Although three years had passed since its release, and he rarely listened to it now, he still held a fondness for it.
Second, as the current “Hoshino Haruka”—an idol woven from lies—the lyrics felt as if they described her.
She was striving to become the “perfect and ultimate idol” described in the lyrics.
Only, her “perfection” was built on a lie larger than any idol’s.
As she hummed, her voice grew louder, shifting from vague humming into a half-open chant.
The original song’s range was on the higher side, but it fell perfectly within the brightest part of Haruka’s vocal register.
She couldn’t keep up with the fast-paced rap section (infamously brutal in this song), but she sang the melody parts with effortless fluidity.
“—Everyone is captivated by you,
You are the perfect and ultimate idol—”
As she sang, she even did a light spin in front of the mirror.
At the same time, outside the glass door of the practice room, Ritsu was leaning against the wall, checking his phone and handling work while observing what was happening inside.
From the start of the evaluation to the end, he had stood in the corridor outside, watching through the glass door.
The evaluation results were within his expectations.
The regression in dance was inevitable, and the fact that her vocals were unaffected was a positive.
Mitsuru-sensei’s advice also aligned with his own judgment: focus on vocal activities in the near term, and slowly recover dance.
He quickly adjusted the schedule of appearances for the next few weeks in his mind.
Several planned dance-heavy jobs would have to be canceled or reformatted, replaced with recordings, interviews, and vocal-based variety shows.
There was also a music festival appearance scheduled for January next year, originally a full-song performance; now it might have to be changed to an acoustic format…
As he was mentally arranging various plans, he heard singing coming from the practice room.
Mitsuru-sensei hadn’t locked the door when she left; it was slightly ajar, so the sound carried clearly.
It was YOASOBI’s “Idol.”
Ritsu’s thoughts were interrupted by the singing.
He looked up through the glass into the practice room.
Inside, Haruka was humming to herself in front of the mirror, looking like she was in a great mood.
Ritsu naturally knew this song and could even sing it.
During the period after its release, it was practically everywhere in Japan.
It played in convenience stores, on TV stations, and people hummed it on the streets.
Combined with YOASOBI’s fame, it was hard not to know the song.
Three years ago, when Haruka was still a low-tier, barely-known idol on the periphery, Ritsu had suggested she ride the wave of this song’s popularity to boost her recognition.
He had her fulfill fan requests for song medleys or directly cover trending songs.
At a small live show with about a hundred people, she covered this song.
Unexpectedly, the effect was pretty good, and she gained quite a few fans.
But Ritsu could no longer clearly recall how well she had sung it back then.
Ritsu opened LINE, thinking to send a thank-you message to Mitsuru-sensei, and also confirm next week’s training schedule.
He typed while thinking about other things.
Just after he finished typing and pressed send, a flash of a scene emerged from the depths of his mind.
—-
Three years ago, on a weekend night, Ritsu had a rare day off.
Eitai said, “I’d rather die than go,” then launched into a “Come on, come on, let’s go” repeat mode. Ritsu fired back with a relentless “I’m not going, I’m not going, I just won’t go.”
But in the end, Ritsu couldn’t resist the other’s killer move—that indescribable, persistent pestering that hovered somewhere between acting cute, being sulky, and outright madness.
To use an inappropriate analogy, a grown man was “acting cute” over the phone like a little girl.
So in the end, Ritsu couldn’t withstand his persistent coaxing and agreed to go.
Inside the karaoke booth, Eitai monopolized the microphone, singing one song after another without stopping.
Meanwhile, Ritsu sat quietly in the corner of the sofa, holding a glass of iced oolong tea, calmly watching Eitai belt out songs alone at the TV screen.
As his manager, if he were to objectively evaluate Eitai’s singing ability, it fell into the “decent” category.
His pitch was on point, his rhythm was good, and his voice wasn’t loud but had a clear timbre.
Better than the average person, but far from a professional singer.
Also, one peculiarity of Eitai’s singing was that no matter what song he sang, he always seemed to be having a great time.
For the eleventh song that night, Eitai picked YOASOBI’s “Idol.”
The song itself was fine—it was the most popular theme song of the hot seasonal anime.
But as soon as the opening rap started, the moment Eitai opened his mouth, Ritsu nearly lost it.
He almost spat out his drink.
The rap in the intro had a “ya↗️” sound at the end of each line.
Not only did Eitai sing it, but he used a high-pitched, “cutesy” voice, and made it particularly “flamboyant.”
A near-thirty-year-old adult male, in a dim karaoke booth, pinched his throat to squeeze out a sickly sweet, deliberately flamboyant, cringe-inducing falsetto.
“What are you doing? Don’t gross me out. Sing properly.”
Eitai showed no signs of stopping.
He even closed his eyes, put on an expression of being immersed in the music, and then cranked up the falsetto during the chorus—
“—The perfect and ultimate idol—”
A mix of “wanting to laugh” and “wanting to die” appeared on Ritsu’s face.
“Can you sing in a normal voice?”
Eitai ignored him.
After finishing the rap section, there was a background harmony part with “You’re my savior.”
Eitai even sang his own harmony in a voice close to operatic bel canto.
“This is normal. This song is originally a female voice. Singing it in a male voice doesn’t capture the feel! Don’t you think I sound divine like this?”
“?”
Eitai didn’t respond further, because the A section started.
He continued singing the entire song with an even more outrageous falsetto.
For the final high note, which in the original song ikura sang ethereally and clearly, Eitai forced it out with his falsetto.
He hit the note, but whether it sounded good was another matter.
After finishing, Eitai put down the microphone and collapsed face-down on the sofa, face flushed, panting heavily, with a satisfied expression that said, “I’m so awesome.”
Ritsu stared at him for over ten seconds before remarking, “…You’re insane.”
“You don’t get it.”
Eitai rolled over to face the back of the sofa.
“This song has to be sung with that voice. Because this song is written for idols. Idols—get it?—idols—”
“You’re a grown man.”
“I’m not a grown man. When I’m singing, I’m an idol.”
“…Then don’t you have any idol dignity?”
“Idol dignity? What’s that? Can you eat it?”
Ritsu ultimately chose silence.
Then Eitai rolled back and said in a normal voice, “Don’t you think this song is perfect for an idol to cover at a live show? Should I suggest that my oshi cover it? No, wait, I’m nobody. Who would read my suggestion?”
“Who is your oshi?”
“Secret.”
—-
His thoughts suddenly snapped back from the dim karaoke booth to the bright, quiet corridor.
Haruka’s humming had stopped; she was packing up her things.
Ritsu closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, forcibly pushing that image of the otaku straining his voice and acting wild back into the deepest recesses of his memory.
How ridiculous.
He leaned against the cold wall and gave a self-deprecating smirk.
YOASOBI’s song was a chart-topping hit back then.
In all of Japan, if not ten million, at least eight million people could sing it.
Hoshino Haruka, as an active idol, casually humming a song about idols in the practice room was completely natural and logical.
Back then, the suggestion to have her cover this song at a live show was something Ritsu had implemented after Eitai casually mentioned it in the karaoke booth.
“It’s just my own idol singing a song called ‘Idol.’ What am I even thinking nonsense about?”
Ritsu muttered to himself.
But still…
Why was it that when he heard those rap lines through the crack in the door, and that final “You’re my savior” that Haruka sang as her own harmony, his first thought wasn’t “Hoshino Haruka is in a good mood today,” but rather that idiot rolling around on the sofa, shamelessly declaring, “When I’m singing, I’m the idol”?
“If you really became an idol, you’d probably sing even crazier than Hoshino Haruka.”
Ritsu lowered his gaze to his phone screen, where he had just finished editing a LINE message to send to Mitsuru-sensei.
Only yesterday, he had silently vowed never to forcibly link any of Hoshino Haruka’s abnormal behavior with Eitai.
That would be a desecration of his deceased friend and a disrespect to Haruka, who was fighting so hard to live.
But reason was one thing; instinct was another.
Especially that part just now where Haruka sang her own harmony—it was too…
That bone-deep sense of familiarity, like an extremely resilient yet invisible spider’s thread, kept intermittently tugging at his taut nerves.
Ritsu took a deep breath and shook his head, casting aside those absurd, almost pathological associations.
Because he suddenly remembered the aftermath of that karaoke night.
After being tortured by Eitai for an entire song, Ritsu decided to retaliate.
He picked the song he knew best—”Lemon.”
In the gap between the first few lines of the lyrics, there was an iconic electronic “woo-ay↗️” sound.
Back then, he had seen a parody video called “Yonezu Boxer,” where one person held a pad while singing “Lemon” and another punched it, landing a blow at the electronic note to physically produce that “woo-ay” sound.
When the song started playing, he deliberately made ridiculous screeching noises during the “woo-ay” part to get back at Eitai’s ears.
In the end, they both got assimilated and started wailing together in the booth.
He straightened up with a self-mocking sigh.
“I’m no different from him—both birds of a feather.”
“Buzz—”
The phone vibrated abruptly in his palm.
It was a call from the producer at the record label.
“Hello… yes, she just finished the rehabilitation evaluation. Vocals are fine. Yes, we can start arranging recordings. As for the timing…”
He answered the phone and turned to walk toward the office area at the end of the corridor.
The sound of his footsteps gradually faded away down the empty hallway.
—-
In the practice room, Haruka stopped humming.
She saw Ritsu’s back disappearing as he answered the phone and left through the glass door.
She had no idea what Ritsu had been thinking just now, or whether he had heard her humming “Idol.”
After all, today’s evaluation results were far better than expected.
No slip-ups.
Her singing was praised.
The issue with her dance was reasonably attributed.
She felt as light as if she had set down a heavy burden she’d been carrying for a long time.
With that off her mind, her brain started processing the next highest-priority issue—because her stomach was growling.
“I’m hungry. What’s for lunch?”
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