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She’s not as tense as she expected to be – sitting there, waiting in the wings. The Arisa on the preview monitor is – not that much different from the last time Shizuku saw her, all things considered. She’s still graceful, silver-tongued, sharp-witted – still all of the things Shizuku isn’t. It’s easy to believe, watching how she moves, hearing what she says, that she owns the stage – you’d be forgiven for thinking she’s a regular here.
Maybe the effort she’s put into archery is finally bearing fruit in the way she’s wanted it to – exorcising the tension from her muscles is a practiced thing, now. A singular proof that she’s changed, even if just a little bit.
She’s gone over their script a hundred times – a thousand times, maybe. Enough that Shii warned her about getting frown lines (though it did make her heart sing when Shii told her she sounded cool. Shizuku’s never been ‘cool’ in her life, but—). She’s articulated her intent to everyone she can – because maybe if she tells enough people how much she wants to change, she’ll be able to.
…there’s some part of it that’s born from fear, though. If she tells everyone she can, they’ll know how scared she is, too. Maybe they’ll help. It’s easier, Shizuku thinks, to believe that she’s greased the cogs of change within herself when she’s surrounded by the comforting chorus of More More Jump. Sometimes, she likes to convince herself that the way Minori bunches her shoulders when she smiles, the way Haruka quirks the corner of her mouth and the corner of her brow at the same time, the way Airi leans against her when she’s a little tired – that these subtle changes are proof of their pride in her. She hopes they’re proud, at least. She thinks they are.
Arisa smiles and poses, on the small preview monitor in their green room. Shizuku’s stomach twists. She can only talk herself out of her nerves so much, after all. It’s hard not to be envious of Minori; seeing the anxiety drain away when she catches sight of snacks laid out for them lifts Shizuku up, too. She feels just a little lighter.
“Whoa! The green rooms at TV stations are way more amazing than I originally imagined!” Minori says, eyes shining. She glances at Airi for permission – all it takes is one nod before she’s diving in. Even after all they’ve done, everything is still so new for her.
Airi hefts a fond sigh. “Weren’t you losing it just a minute ago…?”
It’s not like Shizuku doesn’t get it. Her first experience on television was – terrifying, in its own way. Everything moved at the speed of light back, then, and the person who comforted her – of course, it was Arisa. Her legs shook, and her voice wobbled, and it was Arisa who grabbed her hands and told her she’d be right there to catch her, if she fell.
She fell, of course. It was only by the grace of Arisa’s quick thinking that they averted a complete disaster. Back then, the thumbs up Arisa shot her behind their manager’s back felt so comforting.
She’s here in the moment now, though, with More More Jump – she’s in a better place now. She wants to be – she has to be. She – is.
The video on the preview monitor goes black as Arisa leads them out to a commercial break – no doubt, they’ll be called out soon. She’s prepared as much as she can, surely. Script studied, nerves calmed (within reason), Minori comforted (Airi is currently handling this one, in that wonderful way of hers) – is there anything else she needs to do in the few minutes she has…?
She’s said her mantras, spoken a quiet prayer, texted her sister (twice, sorry Shii!) – right, her phone. It’d be prudent of her to put it on silent, even if she is just going to leave it here, in the green room. It’d be a little embarrassing if it started going off while she wasn’t here, wouldn’t it?
She taps the button on the side to wake it up – swipes upwards (not downwards) to bring up the lock screen, and carefully types in her passcode – zero – three – one – nine (Airi told her to make it something she wouldn’t forget). Right, to turn it on to silent mode, now she has to…
To…? Her memory tells her to swipe up again, but that’s not right…? Those are her apps. She needs, um, settings… Her finger slides uncomfortably across the screen, and an unfamiliar window pops up. Somehow, the game Shii downloaded for her is starting – no, no, that’s not what she wants! She presses back, but it doesn’t want to go back; it slows down and holds there, so – how does she – what does she…?
It's… frustrating. The others wouldn’t have trouble with something like this – Arisa wouldn’t have trouble like this. Airi is sitting there, right next to her, laughing warmly – all she’d need to do is tap her shoulder and ask – how do I do it right? Airi would show her, and the problem would be solved, but – that’s not what she wants. She spams the back button a little more, to no avail. Why – why won’t it go back…? That’s what it’s supposed to do.
In truth, it probably wouldn’t even matter if she didn’t turn her phone onto silent. It’s just in the green room – even if it did go off, probably nobody would hear it. It doesn’t matter this much – it’s not worth getting this upset over, but –
Shizuku stays her breath. She wants to do it. She just – wants to. She wants to do it, so she will. She’ll do it. She doesn’t have to rush – there’s still time.
The first step is to press the middle button – finally, she’s escaped! The home screen is familiar, at least – a picture of More More Jump from their first live (Minori helped her set it). From here – it wasn’t swiping up, so swiping down…? …yes!
This looks familiar. These strange little icons – it was the rightmost of these, and – ah!
Her phone vibrates in her hand, and a little message pops up, indicating that silent mode is turned on. She’s done it – it’s done. It feels a little silly to feel relieved over something so small, but – she did it. She did it, and she’ll do this interview, too – somehow.
“More More Jump! You’re on standby!”
Just in time, too – a staff member pokes their head in the door; they’re due for the second half of this segment. Minori yelps at the thought, but – oh, she’s silly.
“Minori,” Shizuku hums, “You’ve got some crumbs on your cheek.”
She brushes them off with the back of her hand – careful not to disturb Minori’s make-up.
“Come on, let’s go—” Airi ushers them out the door, but pause, looking at Shizuku with an unreadable expression. Maybe she noticed what Shizuku was doing just now – maybe she worried. Maybe Airi’s been paying close attention all day. She would.
“Hey,” she says, slowing down to keep in stride with Shizuku, as Haruka and Minori take the lead. “You okay?”
“Mmhmm,” Shizuku hums, though she’s sure she doesn’t sound all that convincing. Her voice tends to pitch a little when she’s nervous, after all – and that hasn’t gone anywhere. “I’m okay.”
Airi watches her carefully – knocks her hips together as they wall, before discretely sliding her fingers together – squeezing, gently.
“I’ll catch you if you fall,” Airi says, seriously.
Ah—
“I won’t fall,” Shizuku says, right back. She won’t.
Just like that, Airi’s expression softens – Shizuku earns that fond look Minori gets so often. It’s her lucky day.
“I know,” Airi says, satisfied. “I know you won’t.”
Shizuku breathes out, and squeezes Airi’s hand back.
Showtime.