CHAPTER 7
The rehearsal studio smelled of floor wax, stale ozone, and the faint, lingering scent of other people's sweat mingled with perfume. For Kiyomi, however, the only scent that registered was the floral fabric softener on his new leggings—leggings that felt far too tight.
"One, two, one, two…" The trainer, a woman with a sharp bob and a whistle that felt like a needle to the eardrums, clapped her hands. She watched Cerb-3ros struggle to follow the choreography for their debut song.
(This is so difficult…)
Miyu executed every move perfectly, even down to the tip of each finger. Kiyomi kept slipping, and Renge moved at a slower pace. The trainer's expression darkened with disappointment as she left the trio, muttering under her breath. Cerb-3ros had underperformed during their first dance rehearsal.
Their manager, Mio, led them to the conference room after they finished changing.
"Miyuko-chan, you did great. You have real potential to shine," she said.
"Thank you, Mio-chan! Bau Bau~" Miyu replied, offering a flawless, dainty bow.
"Sakura and Renge…" Mio sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "What happened, you two? Sakura kept slipping up, and Renge-chan, your pace was too slow."
"It's because…" Kiyomi stuttered, his face heating up as he looked at his lap. "The leggings," he muttered, the word barely escaping his lips.
"Because of what?" Mio's frustration flared. "How did you even pass the audition?"
"I—" Kiyomi couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.
"You know… maybe dancing isn't our strongest skill. But we have something even stronger," Renge interjected. "We're all princesses of our own domain. We can thrive in our own way."
"And that would mean…?" Mio prompted, unimpressed.
"We can get away with mistakes… because we're cute," Renge replied with a confident, delusional tilt of her head.
Mio facepalmed, a mix of exasperation and amusement on her face. She took a deep breath, regaining her composure.
"Okay, I think that's enough for today. We've achieved what we came for—we've met face to face, and you've had a taste of what idol activities are like," she said. "I'll also send your debut song's dance choreography on LONE. Make sure to check it and give yourselves time to practice. Any questions?"
No one raised a hand. Their first meeting ended with a lingering sense of disappointment—these idols had not yet met expectations.
Outside the office, the city was already bathed in the cool glow of streetlights. Kiyomi tried to start a conversation with Renge, but she had already fled into the shadows of the evening. She moved quickly, looking as if she were in a hurry.
"Renge-chan!" Kiyomi called, but she didn't turn back.
"Kiyomi-chan, what happened earlier?" Miyu asked softly as they began walking toward the station. The night air was crisp, a sharp contrast to the humid studio they had just left.
Kiyomi sighed, a heaviness settling in his chest. He felt the weight of responsibility pressing on him.
"Nothing…" he murmured.
Miyu looked at him, saying nothing, just walking beside him in silence through the evening neon. Kiyomi stole a glance backward toward the dark windows of the agency building but still couldn't find the words.
(Sorry, Miyu… I can't tell you the real reason. It's too embarrassing.)
The following evening, Cerb‑3ros trained again. Just like the night before, they underperformed. The instructor looked disappointed once more, though Mio was far more understanding. She encouraged the idols to keep trying and to give their best.
And just like the day before, Renge ran off on her own as soon as training ended.
"Kiyomi-chan, let's get something to eat first," Miyu said, grabbing Kiyomi's hand.
He led him to a small café a few blocks away from the station. It was tucked into a quiet corner, dimly lit and nearly empty. No one was there to bother them—only the elderly owner, who served them hot tea and thick slices of cheesecake.
"Do you have something you want to ask?" Kiyomi said, poking at his cake.
(What is it? Why is he looking at me like that?)
Miyu rested his chin lightly on his palm, the neon glow of a streetlamp outside reflecting in his eyes.
"Kiyomi-chan, when we practiced together for the audition, your dancing was smooth. Your movements flowed with grace," he said, his tone unusually serious. "But during rehearsal, you keep slipping up. Is something bothering you?"
"I—I can't tell you. It's embarrassing."
"You can tell me," Miyu replied gently. "I'm sure I can help."
"Really?"
"Yes, really."
"You won't laugh?"
"I won't laugh," Miyu said immediately, tapping his chest with confidence.
Kiyomi hesitated, his face heating up until it matched the strawberry glaze on the cheesecake. He took a deep breath, leaned across the small table, and finally whispered the truth.
"My chick is getting in the way of my movements… it's hard to hide it. The leggings are so tight, I'm terrified I'll slip up and… everyone will see."
(Please, Miyu… don't laugh.)
Miyu didn't answer. He froze, his hand still on his chin. For a moment, the only sound in the café was the low hum of the refrigerator.
Then suddenly—
He burst out laughing.
(Wha—)
The laughter exploded out of him, loud enough to fill the entire café. Kiyomi's face turned bright red as embarrassment flooded his chest.
(Miyu!)
"You said you wouldn't laugh," Kiyomi muttered.
"Sorry, Kiyomi-chan," Miyu said between bursts of laughter. "I thought it was something really serious… but it's just that…"
"It is serious," Kiyomi protested.
"Okay, okay, first let's calm down!" Miyu said, trying to control himself.
He continued laughing for another minute before finally settling down. It had clearly been a good laugh.
"Do you want to know my secret?" Miyu leaned closer and whispered.
Kiyomi leaned in as well, curious.
"What is it?"
"I wear gaffs."
Kiyomi blinked, his brow furrowing.
"Gaff? What's that?"
"To tuck the chick in, silly," Miyu said, as if explaining a basic math problem. "How else do you think I move so smoothly in those compression pants? If I didn't, I'd be slipping up just as much as you."
He checked his phone while taking a final sip of his coffee.
"There's a lingerie shop nearby that stays open late. We can buy a few right now."
The two finished their drinks quickly. After paying, they left the café and headed to a nearby lingerie shop, where they bought a couple of gaffs.
The next evening, Cerb‑3ros returned to the rehearsal studio for another session. This time, Kiyomi wore the gaff he had purchased—snug and secure, finally letting him move with confidence.
During dance rehearsal, the change was instantaneous. Free from the fear of exposure, Kiyomi moved with a grace that matched Miyu's rhythm and flow. He followed the instructor's movements with precision. Every swing was controlled, every step deliberate, and every smile carefully placed.
"Well done, Sakura-chan," the instructor complimented mid-practice, her eyes widening in surprise at the sudden transformation.
"Bau Bau~" Kiyomi said with a radiant, cute smile as he executed a flawless spin.
Later, in the conference room, Mio stepped in. She looked genuinely relieved—almost excited.
"Great job, Sakura-chan. You improved in such a short span of time," she said with a bright smile.
"Bau Bau~" Kiyomi replied, his heart racing with the thrill of actual praise.
Miyu, sitting beside him, didn't hide his pride. He suddenly leaned in, hugging Kiyomi and planting a quick, playful kiss on his cheek.
"Bau Bau~" Miyu cheered, his eyes dancing with mischief.
"Bau Bau~ You two look adorable together!" Mio laughed, clapping her hands.
Then Mio's gaze shifted toward Renge. The atmosphere in the room plummeted. Renge's expression was pale, her fingers knotting together in her lap.
"Renge-chan, don't worry!" Mio said gently, trying to calm her.
Renge didn't say a word. Even without speaking, the room felt heavy with her uneasiness. Kiyomi noticed her shifting in her seat, fidgeting awkwardly between her legs.
(Maybe she…?)
Kiyomi quickly shook his head, dismissing the thought.
(No… I shouldn't think like that.)
Miyu quietly noticed Kiyomi's reaction.
Mio let out a soft sigh.
"I have faith in you, Renge-chan," she said. "Sakura-chan improved in just one day. Whatever the problem is, you can tell me."
"Sorry… I can't," Renge whispered.
Before Mio could offer another word of comfort, Renge bolted out of the room, her heavy skirts rustling as she vanished into the evening once again.
Later that night, Kiyomi lay on his bed, scrolling through his phone.
Ding.
Miyu sent him a message on LONE.
Miyu: Kiyomi-chan.
Miyu: You have something in mind?
Kiyomi: Where does this come from?
Miyu: You know...
Miyu: After the rehearsal today, your expression change when Mio was talking to Renge...
Kiyomi: Miyu...
Kiyomi: I think Renge-chan is hiding something from us...
Miyu: Okay...
Miyu: Do you want us to spy on her?
Kiyomi: Why?
Kiyomi: What do you mean?
On the day of their next rehearsal, Kiyomi and Miyu waited outside the changing room, tucked just around the corner of the agency hallway. The air was quiet, broken only by the hum of the vending machine down the hall.
"Are you sure about this?" Kiyomi whispered, his heart hammering against his ribs. It felt wrong to invade someone's privacy, yet the curiosity was a gnawing weight in his stomach.
Miyu nodded calmly.
"Renge usually changes first."
They waited in the shadows. Soon enough, the heavy clicking of platforms echoed on the linoleum. Renge arrived, her gaze fixed on the floor, and stepped into the changing room alone.
The door clicked shut behind her.
A faint rustle of clothes followed.
Miyu glanced at Kiyomi.
"Now."
The two quietly slipped inside, the door swinging open with a soft, agonizing creak.
Renge froze.
There she stood—midway through changing, completely exposed.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then the truth became unmistakable.
Renge… was a he.