Hidden Away

Miya sweat. Her muscles ached. Her head began to pound as she did everything she was commanded to by her instructor. Her agile body twisted and posed like a perfectly articulated doll no matter what order she was given. However, despite the amount of effort she put into the workout, her mind stayed firmly on the subject of Mukashi. 
     During her two minute water break, as he handed Miya her water bottle efficiently, she caught a glimpse of his face. He looked just as cool and collected as he always did, even while she was drenched in sweat and doing her best to keep up with her practice. 
     "Drink your water." He said, startling her. She nearly dropped the bottle in surprise, but then nodded and did as she was told. Once she'd finished, Mukashi took the bottle from her and gestured for her to get back to her instructor.
     Miya hesitated. 
     "Go on; we've had enough delays today." 
     "R-right!" She said as she nodded excitedly and ran back to her instructor.
     She went through more stretches in order to ease herself back into the workout, but once she'd finished them, her instructor immediately had her twisting around herself and bending over backwards for a dance move that she had been struggling with the day prior. 
     Mukashi watched her carefully from near the entrance of the gym. His eyes never left her. 
     She wondered if, while he looked at her, he also thought about her.
     She did high kicks and mused about how he might see her.
     As she was twirled and ordered around by her instructor, she thought about why Mukashi bothered to stay and watch. There were cameras in the gym, and as far as she knew, her instructor was a very trustworthy man. 
     She brushed aside the thought that, perhaps, Mukashi cared for her beyond what was required of him as a manager. It was a pipe dream; a fantasy brought on by prolonged exposure to him. 
     Mukashi glanced down at his phone. It was nearly nine in the morning. He considered how, on a normal concert day, she would've already been practicing for nearly four hours by this point; he knew that shortening her lunch and canceling the interview would only put her at six hours of practice that day instead of her usual eight, but that was the best he could do.
     Miya's mind began to sharpen as her instructor took her through a set of kicks. She realized that what Mukashi had told her about revealing her note to the press didn't sound quite right. She kept going through her workout as she thought about it.
     More kicks; more stretches; more routines. Sweat continued to cover her body as she went as hard as she could. Whenever her breathing began to become audible, her instructor would tell her to quiet down. She couldn't be breathy during one of her songs unless it was explicitly required by that piece. She grit her teeth and practiced more. 
     Mukashi watched disinterestedly.
     After nearly four hours, Mukashi abruptly turned around and stepped out of the gym. Miya normally wouldn't have bothered to notice him doing something like that, but today felt different for some reason. She faltered in her movements for a brief moment.
     "What are you looking at?" Her instructor asked as he snapped his fingers.
     "N-nothing, sir!" She swiftly returned to the position she'd been in before she looked at Mukashi. 
     "Keep going; you cannot falter or stutter during your performance!" Her instructor said with rehearsed forcefulness. "Your fanbase demands perfection; you are-"
     "Miracle M-Miya!" She finished for him before he could continue with the same speech she'd heard dozens of times before. She resumed her kicks as her instructor watched carefully.
     "You stuttered!" He said with a frown. "A miracle; a one-in-a-million find; the greatest idol of all time! A beacon of hope for all the mortals that stumble clumsily through life." He shook his head and gestured for her to keep going.
     Miya didn't reply. 
     She kept doing her kicks, but her mind was focused entirely on what her instructor was saying. 
     If she was a miracle, then why didn't she feel like one?
     She puzzled over that thought for a few minutes before she heard the large metal doors to the gym open.
     "It's time for your haircut." Mukashi said clearly as he carried a folding metal chair into the gym and set it on the floor. There was a large black sheet draped over his left shoulder.
     "Yes, Mukashi." She finished her last kick and ran over to the chair as quickly as she could, then sat down on it. Once she had seated herself, she looked up at Mukashi. "Where's the stylist?" 
     "She couldn't make it." He said bluntly. He turned to look at the instructor. "You have a fifteen minute break as well. Leave the gym." 
     The instructor looked confused, but shrugged and walked past the two of them, then left through the large metal doors. 
     Miya and Mukashi were alone in the vast indoor gym. 
     "If the stylist isn't here, then how-"
     "I will cut your hair." Mukashi said, before she could finish. 
     He crouched down in front of Miya and looked at her face as he removed the black cloth from his shoulder and wrapped it around her body. She froze as his cold hands brushed against her neck as he tied the cloth around it, forming a shroud to catch the strands of hair that would fall when he cut it. 
     Without warning, he brushed her bangs aside, exposing her amber eyes to the outside world. His eyes made solid contact with hers as he did so, and her heart began to race. She could swear that his touch was more tender than it had been mere moments ago, but his face looked as calmly analytical as it always did, even while he examined the parts of her face that the public never saw.
     He stood up and strode behind her, letting her bangs cover her eyes once more, then took hold of her head in his hands and redirected it so that her head was straight up and she was facing forward. The feel of his grip on the sides of her head made her tense up. Mukashi's left hand was removed from her head, and seconds later, Miya heard the metallic sound of scissors being sliced against each other. 
     "Hold still." Mukashi said quietly. "I am not a master stylist; too much movement will disrupt me."
     Miya resisted the urge to nod.
     "Y-yes, Mukashi."
     The sound of scissors cutting through hair seemed to echo in the empty gymnasium. Each strand of hair that hit the shroud over her body sounded much too soft, and the sound of the scissors swishing against each other reminded Miya of the sound of wind rushing past the fields of her grandfather's farm from her youth. 
     She remembered what she'd thought of while she'd been doing her kicks.
     "M-Mukashi, I... Am I really a miracle?"
     Mukashi didn't falter for a second. The scissors kept cutting.
     "Yes. Your fans adore you. You finished idol training in less than a year. Your songs have all topped the charts." He said professionally. "If that isn't impressive enough to be considered miraculous, then there are no miracles at all."
     Miya closed her eyes and thought about her fans; the crowds that cheered her name; the endless piles of letters she received from them; attempting to end her life would crush their dreams. She couldn't be so selfish.
     "I'm sorry." She whispered.
     Mukashi heard her, and for a moment he hesitated on his next cut. He didn't understand what she was saying, but he knew that if he engaged with what she'd said, it would more than likely only serve to distress her further. 
     The sound of scissors slicing against each other resounded throughout the empty gymnasium loudly as Mukashi trimmed off one final batch of dyed blue hair. Miya held her breath as he slowly removed his right hand from the side of her head.
     "Well done." Mukashi said calmly. "You have two minutes left in your break."
     He stepped around the chair and squatted down in front of Miya again, placing his eyes at the same level as hers. Despite her bangs being in between their eyes, she could tell he was trying to make eye contact through them. He deftly removed the shroud from her body and shook it off, then folded it up and placed it over his shoulder again. 
     When he stepped away, Miya felt a chill run through her, but she knew it wasn't from the shroud leaving her body.