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“Daddy!” An shouted, toddling towards Ken as quickly as she could, smile wide and arms outstretched. In one fluid motion, her dad knelt to scoop her up and then spun her around, holding her close with one hand firm against her back. She draped her head over his shoulder, wrapping her legs around him as he laughed, loud and free, into her ear.
Ken kissed her on the cheek, warm skin pressed against warm skin. “How’s my little apricot?” he murmured. An only smiled, too overwhelmed to do anything but kick her legs against his chest.
There were a lot of things An loved. She loved cherry lollipops, and the monkey bars. She loved climbing higher than anyone else on the playground, finding ways to pull herself up poles or play structures or tree branches and watching everyone else stare at her in amazement. She loved school. She loved Uncle Taiga and Aunt Nagi. And she loved her dad. But more than anything, she loved her dad’s shows, watching him with stars in her eyes from what he always assured her was the best seat in the house, kicking and screaming and waving with all her might as the crowd went wild around her. She loved how he’d come back to see her after he was done, every time, how she’d wait as patiently as she could manage in his dressing room until he threw the door open and picked her up and told her he loved her. And then he’d take her to see everyone— his fans, his friends— and the lights were so bright, and the people were so loud, and everyone was smiling and pushing and shouting but Ken never let go of her hand.
Her dad made magic on those stages, and everyone had always told her that she was built to do the same.
“Come on, baby, let’s go see all the people, okay?” Ken set An down and she immediately grabbed for his pant leg, clinging to a wrinkle by his knee while he wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders.
“Ken, man,” someone boomed, “good show,” and he clapped her dad on the back. An stared up at him, wide-eyed, watching while her dad nodded and laughed and high-fived him.
“Ken!” someone else called, rushing up to the three of them. “That was epic, dude!” Her dad smiled more, made more happy sounds, passed phones and papers back and forth. The man from before walked away. An hardly noticed. Her eyes never left her dad’s face.
“Aw, look who it is!” This time it was Aunt Nagi. “Ken, seriously awesome tonight.” She crouched in front of An, happily accepting the biggest hug An could offer, rubbing up and down her back and kissing behind her ear. She talked up at Ken over An’s head. “At this rate you guys are gonna need to double capacity. I swear there’s a horde all the way down the block. An-chan, you get bigger each time I see you. Gonna get ready to perform with your daddy soon, huh?”
“Uh-huh!” An beamed, hugging Nagi tighter.
Nagi turned back to Ken. “How you feeling about tonight? There’s seriously so many people out there. Like. Look.” She gestured down the crowded hallway as someone pushed open the door and a wave of sound swept over them, screaming fans all clamoring to get a look at them through the gap.
Ken reached for his daughter, and she happily took his hand, pressing herself to his side, leaning into his fingers as he scratched her head. “What do you think, apricot? Wanna go say hi to everyone?”
An grinned, nodded, and the dog thumped its tail.
“Thank you, everyone!” An called, waving with both her hands to the crowd that had formed around the sidewalk. “I had so much fun singing for all of you today!”
She hopped off her box, pulling on the cord of her mic to unplug it and winding it around one of her hands. The people murmured to each other as they dispersed, excited whispers mingling with compliments and speculation and a few unimpressed shrugs. An smiled at people as they passed, trying to keep up the kind of bright, charming energy that she’d seen her dad and Nagi turn on thousands of times. Most of them smiled back. A few didn’t even look down.
“So,” Ken said, kneeling next to An and helping her pile her things into a bag, “how are you feeling about your first big show?”
“‘Big show,’” An giggled. “Daddy. I didn’t even have my own room.”
Ken glanced up at Nagi, exchanging expressions that An didn’t know how to read. “That’s okay,” he said softly. “You will someday.”
An sat back on her heels, hope welling in her chest, pressing against her heart in a way that made her a little bit scared it was going to pop, but she tried to ignore the way it hurt.
It didn’t make sense. She was supposed to be happy after singing for people. Her dad was, and so were Nagi and Taiga, all the time, no matter what. She was supposed to be excited. She was supposed to be magic.
She looked down at the concrete, rubbing her fingertips over loose bits of rock. “Are you sure?” she mumbled, and she didn’t understand why, but now she was crying. She tucked her head even tighter to her chest, hoping her bangs covered her eyes so nobody saw— not her dad, not her aunt, not anyone. She was supposed to be happy. Or else she was doing something wrong.
But she couldn’t be doing it wrong. She couldn’t. She was made to sing, just like her dad. Just like everyone always told her she would.
And weren’t people proud of her? Didn’t they all walk away smiling and laughing, and some of them even waved? She reached for her hat, dragging her fingers through all the coins inside. People didn’t give coins to bad singers. Sure, she had to stand on a box just to be tall enough for people to see her, but people loved her. They always had.
“Baby,” Ken sighed, pulling An in for a hug like she was five again. She was older now, but she didn’t resist, letting him wrap his arms around her and kiss the top of her head. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” An replied, squeezing her eyes shut and burying her face in his dad’s shirt. “Is there something wrong with me?”
“Listen to me.” An opened one eye, squinting through the sunlight to make out Nagi’s face. “You’re perfect, okay?” Nagi reached for An, curling her fingers around An’s cheek. “You did great. I promise. See all those people? All those people are here for you.”
An sniffled, sitting up in her dad’s lap, facing Nagi as she wiped her eyes. “But…”
“But what?” Ken asked quietly, squeezing her hand.
“I don’t know why I’m sad,” An whispered.
Another secret look exchanged over her head.
“It’s okay,” Nagi said slowly, like she wasn’t really sure what to tell her. “Sometimes the music and the fun and the excitement and the noise and everything is so big it does weird things inside us. Especially for you, since you’re so small.” She smiled, tapping An on the nose. “But I’m proud of you, and every single person on this street is too.”
“This was a great first step,” Taiga interjected, “but you’re gonna fly even higher one day.”
“Okay,” An mumbled, forcing herself to smile. “Thank you. I’m really happy.”
She made herself believe it, digging inside herself for the hope and pride that she’d been so full of earlier. It was right there— she’d felt it, just after she finished her last song, waving and looking at everyone who was smiling and shouting for her. She hadn’t been able to keep herself from laughing. Where did it go?
Maybe she just needed to sing more. Maybe if she performed again it would come back. Once she saw all the people, and heard all the cheering, and had the proof right there in front of her that she was finally being what she was supposed to be.
She’d been waiting for this for years. Everyone else had too.
She had to fly even higher.
“Can we go to the cafe?” An asked sheepishly, glancing at her dad as she finally got up to give Nagi and Taiga a hug. “I’m kind of hungry.”
“Of course. Big stars need snacks after they totally crush their shows.”
Ken took one of An’s hands and Nagi took the other, and they walked together over to WEEKEND GARAGE, and An felt something sparkle inside her. She was happy again. She was fine.
The bell above the door to the cafe chimed as An pushed the door open, and immediately, all eyes turned to her. There was a moment of silence. Then:
“An, that was so good!”
“An, you’re amazing!”
“An, I’m so proud of you.”
An glowed with the praise as she slid sheepishly into a booth and covered her mouth with her hands. Her dad was making her a hot chocolate, and Taiga was getting her a cookie, and everyone was so happy with her. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling.
“So,” Ken said, sitting down across from her and sliding a cup across the table. “Just tell me— what was the best part of performing?”
Behind him, someone smirked down at An as they passed.
“She’s trying to be like her daddy.”
An’s eyes went huge for a second, but she shook her head, letting her thoughts fill up with sparkles, keeping the grin wide on her face.
As An launched into a summary of all the fun she’d had, the dog sat still at attention.
Everyone on Vivid Street went quiet as An passed by. Nobody seemed to want to look at her. The best she could get was a feeble wave.
She held her bag tighter, kept her head down, and picked up her pace.
She’d been out at a battle, one she’d been hyping up for days or weeks. Dozens of her friends came, holding signs, waving lights, cheering. They’d looked so happy when she’d taken the stage, staring down her opponent, holding her mic like a weapon, and then…
Then she’d failed, and the people had left. Slowly, one by one, their faces falling, their grip on their signs growing weaker until they just turned around and walked out, and she’d tried to keep going, but everyone there knew who she was: An Shiraishi, Vivid Street’s pride and joy, and she was losing.
Her third-place award knocked against her water bottle with every step she took; mocking her, it seemed. Most people might’ve been overjoyed with third place, but she was supposed to be something better. She tried to imagine it, pinned up on the wall in the cafe next to all her gold, and it was ridiculous enough to make her laugh, just a little.
It wasn’t like she’d never lost before, but this was so… public, and she’d been defeated once and then a second time. She sat and watched the finals go down from the audience. She smiled and waved like she was supposed to. Walked a couple blocks with a spring in her step.
Then she tucked her stupid medal into her bag and started to run.
Every averted eye only proved to her more and more that she’d screwed up. Maybe someone else would’ve gotten third place and gone back home to celebration, a party, everyone cheering them on because they won. Not An. Not here.
Whenever An competed, she always seemed to intimidate every competitor; some combination of her family name and her neighbourhood always made her opponents’ voices shake. She carried her father and all her family wherever she went. Vivid Street bred talent. At this point everyone knew it.
It was on An to measure up.
It didn’t make any sense. This one was supposed to be easy. They were all supposed to be easy. There wasn’t even anything she could blame it on— no faulty equipment, no biased crowd. She’d just had some sort of… off day. Her voice had cracked. She’d tried to push through. She’d failed.
“Hey, welcome.” Ken glanced at An as she dragged herself through the WEEKEND GARAGE door. “Oh, it’s you. Sorry.” He set down the dishes he was washing, a smile growing on his face as An set her things down and slumped over at a table. “So?”
An’s eyes caught an empty spot on the wall behind Ken’s head, a place she was pretty sure there’d been a medal hanging before she’d left. He’d cleared a space for her. She had nothing to fill it with.
She forced her gaze away from all her prizes and glared at her dad, dropping her bag with a clatter. “Haven’t you heard?” she grumbled, digging her award out of her bag and slamming it onto the table. “I lost.”
She didn’t know what she was expecting. Chin up? It’s okay? You’ll win it next time?
Ken only stared at her in shock.
“Really?”
An’s face burned with shame as she shrugged, and the dog ducked its head.
Everything was falling apart.
An stared at the stars on her ceiling, getting more and more pissed off with every passing minute. She was stupid. Everything was completely fucked up. Everyone hated her. And they were right.
It was entirely, completely, 100% her fault.
She wasn’t sure what the time was. Way too fucking late, probably, or way too early. At some point they became the same thing.
She’d had a nightmare, again, and her heart was still pounding. She was still terrified to close her eyes. She still felt like rolling over and throwing up. But it was probably the least she deserved. She had no right to feel sorry for herself.
So Akito had tried to kill her. So what? He’d probably been right.
She was nothing without Vivid Street, nothing without her family and everyone who’d come before her. Nothing without being something that everyone loved and praised and doted on. Nothing if not impressive. This certainly wasn’t impressing anyone.
There was no point, really, to being anything anymore. She’d failed. She’d meant to go all the way with Vivid BAD SQUAD, take them with her to the top, show up her dad and Taiga and every single person on Vivid Street that still thought she was her daddy’s spineless puppet. She’d meant to be something. Do something big. Make people proud. She was Ken’s daughter, Vivid Street’s daughter. She’d meant to fly.
She could’ve done it, too. That was the worst part of it all.
If she hadn’t been such an idiot, she could’ve pulled off exactly what everyone expected of her. So, sure, Akito could do whatever the fuck he wanted to her. At this point An wished he’d succeeded.
Not even her dad was proud of her anymore. He claimed he was, but the way he looked at her was different now. Like he knew— and everyone knew— that she’d thrown away her one chance at finally being enough. She was only his daughter as long as she could follow him, could be something he could point to and show off. Whenever everyone clapped for her, they clapped for him too, because he made her. He trained her to be something the whole neighbourhood could love.
People didn’t really look her in the eyes anymore. They didn’t know, of course, what she’d done— unless they did, but she was pretty sure they didn’t— but it seemed like they could tell that something was wrong. That she’d lost her magic.
Vivid BAD SQUAD hated her, Vivid Street right along with it.
Touya wouldn’t answer her calls, and she’d given up trying a few days ago anyway. She hadn’t seen Kohane since they broke up. Now that she’d had a few days to think about it, Haruka probably hated her; Ena always had. Akito had shown up just to stab her, and that pretty much spoke for itself.
The real Akito had been ignoring her, of course, ignoring all her sorries and pathetic pleading, but the Akito in the back of her mind taunted her, creeping into her thoughts when she had a moment alone, laughing as she cowered. He danced in her dreams, wearing the face of all the people An had let down, and he killed her, over and over again, and she deserved it.
Besides, An Shiraishi was basically already dead.
An Shiraishi was pretty and perfect. An Shiraishi glowed wherever she went. An Shiraishi was confident, head held high as she walked through the streets and waved to everyone who knew her, who loved her. An Shiraishi did exactly as she was told and she did it well. An Shiraishi was the prized possession of her father, of Nagi, of Taiga, of all of Vivid Street.
Nagi was gone. Taiga didn’t talk to her. Vivid Street would move on.
Her mom had moved on a long time ago.
Now An Shiraishi was a girl that lied, a girl that was reckless and cruel and horrible and stupid, a girl that nobody wanted to touch. Her dad was probably ashamed of her, ashamed to have ever paraded her around like she was something, ashamed that now everyone knew she was his.
An sighed, rolling onto her side and staring at the blurry outline of her chair. It was too quiet. Her dad was definitely asleep. She couldn’t bring herself to wake him up.
She folded herself over the edge of her bed, feeling for her phone on the floor, flipping it over and recoiling when the light of her lockscreen nearly blinded her. She fumbled for the brightness control, stars blinking in the edges of her vision.
1:26 AM.
No new notifications.
Her phone slipped from her hand. She’d known, logically, that of course there wouldn’t be anything new; it was too late and everyone hated her too much, but she was so tired, and she was so tired of feeling like scum but she knew she was scum so it was in her best interest to get used to it. She had a headache. Everything hurt. She’d barely slept. She hadn’t washed her hair in days. She didn’t even know what day it was.
An pulled her knees to her chest, buried her head in her arms, and started to cry.
Nobody came to comfort her.
The dog had failed.
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