Disturbance

Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan - Evening

Shibuya pulsed with life. Crowds surged beneath a canopy of neon, every flicker and flash insisting Tokyo never slept. Above the scramble, a massive billboard blazed to life, washing the street in electric glow.

“Tokyo police are now investigating a narcotics scandal linked to the idol group Star Hime,” the anchor’s voice cut through the city noise. “Several members are suspected of distributing a dangerous imported drug.”

The name Star Hime rippled through the crowd like fire on dry grass. Whispers snapped across the street, mutating into rumors before the words had even finished scrolling. Some tilted their heads up towards the glowing screen, others traded uneasy looks.

Two salarymen slowed. One yanked his tie loose with a sigh.

“Idols, huh? They all bubbly on stage until the rot shows. Guess those cringe NEET fans would go crazy for a week or more.”

His colleague snorted. “Figures. Those unemployed simps deserve it.”

Nearby, die-hard fans clutched glowstick keychains, voices cracking as they shouted over one another.

“Don’t believe it, Hime Warriors! Our oshis would never—!”

“It’s lies! A conspiracy to ruin them!”

A gothic pair leaned against the railing, arms crossed, smirking.

“Tch. Idols, drugs, scandals—it’s always the same.”

“Give it a week,” the girl drawled. “Those same fans will be camping for the comeback.”

Above them, the anchor’s voice replayed. Each word sparked fresh gasps, laughter, outrage.

Three schoolgirls squealed, phones already out while they're excitedly exchange rumors to each others. 

“Alright whores, who do you think’s the culprit?”

“My money is on Yua, obviously.”

“Nah, it's definitely Rika. I mean..she skipped the last concert.”

"Bet everyone involved” the loudest one declared with a grin. “Fucking fake idols.”

That loudest voice belonged to Miku Takasawa. The kind of girl no one could ignore. Her hair tumbled in glossy blonde waves streaked with pink, catching the neon glare. Her uniform screamed defiance: blouse half-unbuttoned, skirt hem too high, socks slouched, white designer boots flashing in the crosswalk lights.

At her side, Yumeko Okita and Reine Murasaki snickered over their phones, overpriced boba tea in hand.

“Totally,” Yumeko said, twirling her auburn hair. “Idols act like saints, but in reality they’re trash—probably worse than us!”

Reine flipped scarlet hair over one shoulder, smirking. “Bet they’re screwing with some host guys, snorting some coke, have sex and-”

“—Boom!” Miku cut in, straw between her lips. “Scandal hits. Fans cry like it’s the end of the world.”

Her friends howled. Yumeko nearly choked on tapioca pearls.

“Male idols are better anyway,” Reine scoffed. “At least they can dance!”

Miku slurped her drink obnoxiously, grinning. “Meanwhile, these ‘pure angels’ pull the same act every time: ‘I was pressured, it’s my manager’s fault, please spare me~!' Like, there's no way you accidentally distribute all of those powders and then act like not knowing any shit, bitch.”

Yumeko leaned in with a whisper. “Rumors said they got it from some rich uncle’s yacht.”

“Hah!”

Reine’s grin sharpened. “So, Miku… how was that nerd you hooked up with last night? Any kisses?”

Heat flooded Miku’s face. She smacked Reine’s arm. “Shut up! Ryu’s not that kind of nerd. He’s a boxing nerd. And he’s hot. Not some basement dwelling troll.”

“Oooh, soft spot detected,” Yumeko teased.

“As if!” Miku crossed her arms, cheeks puffed. “We’ve only dated for a month. He… treats me right.” With a dramatic hair flip, she added, “Besides, he’s not the only guy. I’ve got like, eight in my waiting list.”

“Eight?!” Reine cackled. “Slut!”

“Oh my god, girl, that’s multitasking!” Yumeko wheezed.

Miku smirked, swirling her straw. “None of them know. Well, except Kenta, but he’s a dropout, so he doesn’t count.”

The three shrieked with laughter, their voices cutting through Shibuya’s chaos.

Then—a collision happened, BAM! 

A figure in a black summer dress stumbled into Miku, nearly dropping her purse. A wide straw hat tilted, shadowing a porcelain face. Silken black hair spilled down her back and when she looked towards them—crimson blood eyes, impossibly bright in the dark night. 

Miku froze, pearls spilling from her cup due to the impact, tapping against the pavement.

“Hey, watch it—!” she snapped, then stopped.

The girl bowed quickly. “Gomenasai!” Her voice was soft. Then she slipped into the crowd, swallowed whole by the sea of humans. 

Miku stood rooted, scowl fading. Something sharp twisted in her chest, instinct whispering.

“That girl…”

Her friends exchanged glances.

“So cute…, almost like…” Yumeko muttered.

“A creepy doll,” Reine corrected. “Almost made me spill my drink.”

But Miku barely heard. She gripped her cup tighter, tapioca clinking at the bottom. The itch inside her wouldn’t leave.

Whoever that girl was—this wasn’t the last time their paths would cross