Sanada Masaharu caught the fleeting tension in Haruka’s eyes and added with a smile, “Don’t worry, don’t worry. This ‘difference’ isn’t a criticism at all.”
“On the contrary, I think it’s an excellent direction. After all, your technique has always been solid, and today you were even steadier than before.”
Hearing Sanada’s explanation, Haruka breathed a sigh of relief.
‘That scared me. I almost thought this role-playing farce was over.’
“But even rarer than technique is the change in your emotional expression.”
“Changed…?”
“Mm. Before, when you sang, your emotions were ‘smashed’ out.”
Sanada made a pushing motion with her hand.
“Like pushing open a door and letting all your feelings rush out without reservation. Very direct, very impactful, but also relatively one-dimensional. But today…”
Sanada savored the dry vocal she had just heard.
“In today’s B section and chorus, I could hear your emotions ‘growing’ out. Like a seed breaking through the soil, struggling upward with a tenacious force. This kind of expression is more restrained, more layered, and leaves a lingering aftertaste.”
“This kind of emotion today is very unique. How did you achieve it?”
Haruka was silent.
‘I can’t exactly tell you that the girl singing in that recording studio actually has the soul of a nearly thirty-year-old adult male otaku who just went through a life-and-death separation, can I? A sixteen-year-old genius girl and a unlucky guy who died once would naturally have different mindsets singing the same song…’
But despite her inner rant, on the surface she played dumb and scratched her head.
“Hehe… maybe it’s because I spent a lot of time lying alone in the hospital thinking about all sorts of random things.”
She smoothly fell back on this vague, all-purpose explanation.
Sanada nodded and didn’t press further.
“Regardless of the reason, this direction is right. Please be sure to maintain it.”
Then her tone grew more serious.
“And if today’s performance isn’t a flash in the pan, and you can stabilize this layered quality in future practical recordings…”
“I think you could try more genres of songs.”
“More genres?”
“Your current musical foundation is bubblegum pop. Sweet, light, bright, energetic. That style definitely suits you, and it’s the ‘bubblegum’ that the market and your fans most expect to chew.”
Haruka nodded inwardly.
She knew all too well the standard for orthodox idols.
In short, this style was about creating a flawless dreamlike image for fans.
“But the empathy you showed today goes far beyond what bubblegum pop can carry.”
Sanada’s gaze became eager.
“Once your condition is completely stable, maybe we can try challenging ballads, or city pop. As long as your live singing can support it, you can definitely try something with more depth.”
“Eh?”
Haruka was flattered.
“I… I can really try?”
“Of course.”
Sanada smiled.
“After all, your previous profile mentioned that you can play guitar and bass. Though as an idol, these instruments are just hobbies and bonus points, and they’re basically useless on pure singing and dancing stages. But in these new styles, the rhythmic sense cultivated by these instruments can be perfectly integrated. But no rush. First, stabilize your comeback rhythm. Your core task now is to let everyone see that ‘Hoshino Haruka is back, and in top form.’ Expanding your style is an option for later.”
“After some time, if your condition allows, we can start with cover songs to test the waters. Pick a few classic tracks from different genres to see which styles your voice has the best chemistry with.”
“Cover songs… okay!”
“I’ll personally pick songs for you then.”
Sanada leaned back and resumed her professional demeanor.
“Alright, go rest now. Great work today.”
“Thank you, Teacher Sanada!”
Haruka, holding the hot cocoa, waved vigorously and watched Sanada leave.
As she turned toward the elevator, she was in high spirits, her steps brisk as if carried by the wind.
She unconsciously hummed the harmony tune from earlier and gloated inwardly:
‘Hmph… so I didn’t mess up at all. Instead, I got recognition from an industry big shot, and I can even prepare to broaden my range, right? That must be it!’
‘Looks like I’m more suited to being an idol than I thought!’
—
Five minutes later, in the underground parking lot.
The moment Haruka’s butt hit the back seat, she suddenly felt a wave of exhaustion crashing over her.
Her entire body went limp like a pile of mud, and she lay straight across the spacious back seat.
“…Watch your image.”
Ritsu, sitting in the passenger seat, glanced at her through the rearview mirror, but didn’t sternly stop her behavior.
“Oh, it’s fine. No one’s in the underground garage anyway. I wasn’t tired earlier, but I don’t know why I suddenly feel drained the moment I sat down…”
She muttered with her face buried in the back cushion.
“Who was it that was full of energy in the hallway shouting about going to karaoke?”
“Cough… right. Who was that?”
Haruka didn’t explain.
After seven steps, she chose to make her past self the enemy.
The minibus smoothly exited the parking lot and merged into the slightly congested afternoon traffic of Minato Ward.
After a brief exchange of banter with Ritsu, the cabin fell quiet.
Only the subtle white noise from the air conditioning vents remained.
Haruka leaned against the seat, holding the unopened can of hot cocoa in both hands, feeling the warmth in her palms.
The corners of her mouth involuntarily lifted.
She turned her head and looked at the record company building gradually receding through the window.
Her mood was brighter than ever.
First practical recording, successfully completed.
Although the process was torturous, the result was good—she had earned the approval of two producers and received an offer from the vocal coach.
These evaluations were a highly effective shot of adrenaline for her at this moment.
Because for over a month, she had been walking on eggshells, “playing” a familiar stranger.
Although in the hospital room that day, she had given herself a lengthy philosophical speech because of a faint dream message, swearing that she would do well and become Hoshino Haruka, maintaining this lie.
But saying is one thing, doing is another.
After all, this body ultimately wasn’t hers.
She couldn’t simply forget nearly thirty years of male life.
The sense of disconnection and self-doubt between body and soul was not something that could be easily erased with a few bold words and chicken soup.
Even though she considered her “feminization” a great success—not only quickly adapting to the physiological differences of being female, like menstruation, using the restroom, and the strange sensation of having two sizable lumps of flesh on her chest.
She also got used to the hormonal fluctuations brought by this female body, such as blushing and heart racing at certain “sweet nothings.”
She grew accustomed to those energetic and cute remarks she would never have been able to utter before, and even face without flinching when acting spoiled, working, or throwing a tantrum in front of her former best buddy.
In the last two days, she even thought—maybe she really was suited to being a beautiful girl?
But just doing that was far from enough.
Just like that certain six-time champion standing at the pinnacle of esports still needed a seventh crown to prove himself.
And today’s recording debut, which relied entirely on dry vocals, was her first battle to prove herself and truly accept the identity of “Hoshino Haruka.”
Next, she had to inherit Haruka’s will, stand on stage again, on bigger stages, and advance toward the Nippon Budokan and Tokyo Dome.
“First battle victory. From now on, those little things should be no problem, right?”
The better her mood, the more she swung her calves happily against the edge of the seat, accidentally kicking the back of the passenger seat many times.
She felt like she was floating with joy.
“Stop fidgeting.”
Ritsu’s authoritative voice came from the front.
“Open your calendar app. I just synced the adjusted schedule to you. Confirm the afternoon and tomorrow’s itinerary.”
Haruka pouted, straightened her posture, and began to check the upcoming schedule.