"Let's dance--a tribute to my idol."

2006

The bright lights from the television flashed loudly into Akiko’s eyes. Like a moth to a flame, she’d parked her bike in front of the television shop to watch the performance on the screen. The idols on several of the screens danced with vigor, the pinks and the blues of the light causing her eyes to dilate. Her eyes were only on one of the idols though; Hyejun. She was the lead vocalist of the group, their group name “STARGLOW” brightly displaying itself in the corner of the screen. Akiko had been a fan since their debut a month prior. They’d even come to a venue near her town, but she was unable to go.

Hyejun smiled brightly as she hopped and skipped around the stage. Akiko looked on in awe. The last chorus of the song was up and she knew what was next. Hyejun had a solo at the end of the song. Akiko hadn’t seen the choreography for it but she knew it’d be amazing. Just as the other girls got into their positions, Hyejun took a deep breath and–

Before Akiko could register what had happened, a blunt force shoved into her. Her glasses fell to the ground along with her bike. Her surroundings went blurry. “The show!”

Forget her glasses and forget her bike. She had to see the choreography. The Miura family sadly could not afford a television and the Akiko won’t get another opportunity to watch the live performance. She quickly stood up, brushing off the mud from shirt. The person that had made their way through her had gone without checking on her, but that didn’t matter. She approached the television closer than before but even with her vision impaired she knew the show had ended. The familiar colors and outlines of end credits made itself apparent in her eyes.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she went to pick up her cracked glasses. She slipped them onto her face and grabbed her bike, walking home heartbroken.

Six years later

A wet, slimy substance covered Akiko’s face. Her eyes shot open. Large black dots looked back up at her, fluffy fur tickling her skin. It was Pochi, her loyal companion. She grabbed the dog by its midsection and rolled over. “I have an alarm, y’know…” she said, nuzzling her nose against the dog’s muzzle. “I appreciate your service, nonetheless.”

The alarm clock next to her went off seconds after. She tapped the button on the side of it with ease. Akiko was very much a morning person, so she never felt the need for an alarm clock. A lot of the time, the alarm would go off and she would already have her clothes on. She loved the feeling of waking up after an exhausting day.

On the other hand, her mother hated the morning. The smell of burning breakfast filled the house. Akiko filled Pochi’s food bowl and turned off the stove, tapping her sleeping mother to wake her up. Her mother flinched.

“Morning, mom.”

The older woman nearly dropped the spatula. “Wha…? Oh, Good morning, Kiko…”

She looked down at the now burnt fish in the pan. “Oh, darn… I was going to surprise you.”

Akiko looks at her mother with optimism, grabs the food, and quickly puts it in her mouth. “Akiko! That’s badly burnt!” She exclaims, attempting to pry open her daughter’s mouth.

“Not that badly!” Akiko says with a full mouth. She grabs her bag and runs to the front door, slipping on her shoes. “I’m off!”

Her mother rushes to the front door after her. “You should’ve let me throw that away, Kiko…”

Akiko finishes tying her sneakers, gulping down the fish. “No way I’d let you waste a perfectly good piece of tilapia!”

The woman chuckled, propping herself up against the doorway. “Have a good day, my love.”

“You too, mom.”

Akiko rode through town on her bike, waving at her mother’s friends. She never clicked with anyone her age. It’s not that she was “different” or “not like them,” but that she felt like her classmates weren’t for her.

The television shop she’d passed by as a child had turned massive and was in the center of a busy street. She was somewhat proud of the business owner.

As she passed the thriving business a familiar tune filled her ears. A tune from the first album and the first track of the first idol group she’d ever listened to: STARGLOW. She slowed down on her bike to see why they were playing an old, yet classic, tune. Akiko read the black text on the screen.

Hyejun, (26) leaves STARGLOW to retire for personal reasons.

“What? She was leaving STARGLOW?”

The words on the screen swam through her mind, making its way into her inner child still sobbing about missing Hyejun’s solo. She’d seen the solo by now of course, but the tears still flowed down her face. She tried to be understanding. Hyejun was a grown woman who had her own priorities and couldn’t be an idol forever. But she was her idol. Hyejun was the big sister that Akiko wished she had growing up.

A light drizzle turned to downpour as Akiko stood in front of the enlarged T.V. The clip of Hyejun giving an interview suddenly cuts to the full performance of STARGLOW’s first track from their first album. It felt just like when Akiko was a child seeing it for the first time on a box television. The bright pinks and blues fed the lonely inner child within Akiko. The child who felt like she couldn’t talk to anyone but her posters. The child who’d been bullied for her interests and shunned by everyone but her mother.

It’d been six years since the song dropped, and she’d learned the entire choreography. All of the feelings of embarrassment and shame left her body as she followed Hyejun’s movements on the screen. Passerbys began to stop and stare as Akiko danced. Some stayed while others called friends over to point and laugh: it didn’t matter. She moved as if she was dancing in her own headspace, where no one could ridicule her.

The feeling of the rain on her skin increased the adrenaline flowing through her as she hit every mark, tripping ever so often.

Then came Hyejun’s solo. The other idols in the performance got into their positions. Akiko breathed deeply, and just like Hyejun, gave it her all. Even six years ago Hyejun’s voice was magical and smooth. The rest of the idols joined Hyejun for the last couple seconds before the performance ended and everything was quiet. Akiko opened the eyes she wasn’t aware she had closed and realized the crowd she had accumulated. Despite the cold rain her face went hot. She grabbed her bag, forgetting her bike and made her way to school.

Unknowingly, someone in the crowd had recorded the entirety of the performance (even the part where she’d panicked and ran off). That person uploaded the video the second they had access to a computer. They thought it’d be a funny video of someone random dancing in the rain. But the video had the complete opposite effect. An hour after it was uploaded, the video had nearly 1 million views and 786,000 shares.

Akiko “Roshaku” Miura didn’t know it, but her path to stardom had been paved by a complete stranger.