Only the Living

Mukashi tried to answer the question, but before he could say anything, the tour bus stopped moving inside the venue's garage. He was silently relieved that he had an excuse not to answer her question.
     The makeup artists swarmed Miya almost as soon as she stepped off the tour bus in the venue's garage. She sighed and let them drag her along like a ragdoll as they hurried her through the back parts of the venue, with Mukashi keeping up behind her. They dried her hair and straightened out the frizzles. They applied her blush and made her skin appear even toned. They took her out of her standard uniform and put her into a new one; one that would flow with each movement she made during her dance routine. It was guaranteed to make her stand out on the venue's stage and ensure everyone knew who the star attraction was.
     Her bangs were curled ever so slightly so as to hide everything above the very tip of her nose. her bangs were forced to stay in place with wires that wrapped underneath her hair. It was uncomfortable, but that wasn't anything new. Her nails were painted the same blue as her hair and eyeshadow was applied with a delicate touch that didn't care about her. Lipstick was pushed onto her lips as well as gloss. Perfume and skin moisturizer was applied generously.
     Each dash of powder and brushstroke reminded Miya of her grandfather using his shovel in the fields to bury something.
     Miya could feel herself being buried. Her skin was covered under a mountain of concealer; her eyes trapped behind a wire cage; her soul was being hidden away, just as it had been ever since she'd started her career as a K-Pop idol.
     She thought her soul had been buried when she'd run away from her grandmother's home. She thought that was as bad and hidden away as someone could ever be; being all alone without a roof over her head, doing her best to scrounge together scraps of food, sleeping with one eye open to keep herself safe from reaching hands. 
     But as the experts stepped away from her and held up a mirror for her to see exactly what she looked like, she realized the truth. 
     When she was homeless, she'd been a human. She'd had something to bury.
     Her eyes gazed through the wires holding her bangs in place and looked at the mirror. 
     Her skin was smooth like porcelain. Her hair was perfectly tended. Her lips were small and detailed. Her outfit was just right for the concert and the songs she'd be performing.
     Dolls had nothing to bury.
     Mukashi stepped forward and looked at her reflection in the mirror as he stood beside her.
     "Show me your pout." He said calmly.
     Miya looked in the mirror.
     Miracle Miya pouted, her muscles contorting and bending until they made the right shape.
     Mukashi nodded and stared at the mirror.
     "Now show me a slight frown."
     The edges of her mouth dipped slightly and made her face look sad instead of slightly upset.
     He looked considerate for a few moments, then spoke again.
     "Now show me a kiss."
     She pursed her lips together and made a perfect circle with them. 
     He turned to look at her directly, his head tilted down towards hers. She didn't move, still staring squarely at the mirror.
     "Turn to face me." 
     She did as instructed, her face still in its kissing form. 
     Mukashi stared directly at her eyes, but she wasn't sure if they were making eye contact because of her bangs. Before she could think about it for too long, he spoke again, still looking directly at her.
     "Everyone else must leave the room." 
     Miya's face faltered and returned to a neutral expression. As soon as it did, she feared Mukashi would say something, but he didn't. He must have noticed the change; he was still staring at her. 
     "Show me your smile."
     Miracle Miya smiled at Mukashi. 
     He knew that it wasn't Miya's smile. It didn't match with the files stored in their cabinets. It didn't even look the same. He knew that when she genuinely smiled, the muscles around her eyes would shift as well. He could only barely see those muscles through her bangs, and he could tell that they hadn't moved at all.
     But he knew that from a distance greater than two feet away, it was impossible to tell the difference between the two smiles. 
     Miya desperately wanted him to say something; she wanted him to tell her that she could stop; she didn't care how selfish the desire was; she wanted him to say that he loved her. 
     No, it was even worse than that: 
     She wanted anyone to tell her that they loved her.
     Mukashi knew that there was something Miya was missing; if he wanted her to recover from her negative experience that morning, he needed to give her what she was missing. 
     But he had no idea what it was; in his mind, she had everything she needed.
     She had good food, pure water, and comfortable shelter provided by Zygeist Media. She had constant companionship because of him. She had a successful career because of her efforts. She had love from her millions of fans. She had colleagues because of other idols. 
     He realized that she had no entertainment. He looked at Miya as she smiled falsely at him.
     "That smile will do." 
     Miya's heart staggered; her smile froze into place.
     "I realize that you have not had a proper break in several months." He said as he continued speaking. "It did not occur to me that you would need one, as you've always performed exceptionally well even without them. It was irresponsible of me to forget to schedule at least one in order for you to enjoy yourself. I will do my best to clear-"
     Miya didn't hear the rest of what he said. 
     She kept smiling as he finished talking and said that she wouldn't have to do her usual stage talk during that day's concert.
     She kept smiling as she went through the list of songs and sang them with completely feigned passion, fooling everyone present into believing that she cared about the lyrics.
     She kept smiling as her backup dancers worked with her to go through the routine over and over as they worked hard to sync their movements perfectly.
     She kept smiling as she heard the sound of thousands of fans pouring into the venue, their steps mingling with their latent excitement as they began working themselves into what could only be considered a frenzy in preparation to watch her do her little performance for their endless appetites.
     Mukashi stood behind her as she prepared to step onto the stage.
     "You've been training. You'll do well." He said matter-of-factly. 
     She smiled, then moved her performance to where the public could see it.
~~~
     "You will always be my; perfect-little-miracle!" 
     "Never leave my side 'cuz without you I'm hysterical!"
     "Hold me tight-prove you're real-"
     "Give me something good to feel-"
     "And pull me ever closer with your-"
     "Boombadabambamboom ah!"
     Miracle Miya sang out the final verse of her song "badaBAMBAM" and listened as the crowd cheered her name. She smiled at them all as they clapped for her. She heard Mukashi's voice come in through her earpiece as she waved at the crowd.
     "Don't worry about your usual stage talk today." He said calmly. "You can do an encore or two instead and the fans will appreciate it just as much. I recommend performing-"
     Miracle Miya didn't hear what he said. She was already doing her performance perfectly; why should she change it?
     She took her left palm, pinched her thumb and index finger together, and made a motion as if she were zipping the crowd's mouth shut. The crowd fell silent and her backup dancers all took a knee. She smiled at the crowd and strutted confidently along the stage.
     "Before I sing anything else, let me just say something to all you lost souls out there!" She said insincerely. 
     The crowd awaited her next words with bated breath.
     "Don't get too sad; I'm here for you!" She clapped her hands together and raised them towards the sky as if she were offering a prayer. "So if you ever get sad, just pray for a Miracle!"
     The crowd went wild and started chanting her name again. 
     She soaked in their cheers; for a brief moment, with the endless applause and the bright stage lights and the heartfelt cries of the crowds surrounding her, she felt happy.
     She realized that she felt that way and threw herself into her next song. Passion laced every single word of "Angel Love Letter." Her vocals for "TOTAL" had never sounded as clear. The version of "Real-True-Girl" she performed was her best one on record. 
     But once the concert was over and she stepped offstage, she realized the truth.
     The moment had passed.