I slumped against the wall, sliding down until I hit the floor. The bottle of water shook in my hand as I gulped it down, my lungs still fighting for air. Eight-thirty at night, and we'd been at it for hours. My shirt clung to my back, soaked through with sweat. I'd forgotten how merciless professional training could be.
Ryota loomed over me, barely winded despite the marathon practice session.
"Look at the new center! So tired already?" He threw his head back and laughed. "What happened to your fancy moves now?"
I draped my arm over my eyes, chest still heaving. "Fuck... off..." Each word came between labored breaths.
Instead of getting angry, Ryota's laugh only grew louder. "Toshiro has fire! Good! Need fire to survive idol hell."
"Leave him alone," Seiji said, though I heard the smile in his voice. He plopped down beside me, his pink hair dark with sweat but his energy seemingly undiminished. "You did amazing. Those high notes during 'Transparent' gave me chills."
I lowered my arm to look at him. The kid's enthusiasm seemed genuine – no trace of the jealousy or suspicion I'd seen in the others. Just pure, uncomplicated friendliness.
"Thanks," I managed, taking another gulp of water. "Didn't expect... the full session... first day."
"Ryuu doesn't believe in easing people in," Daisuke said, approaching with a towel that he offered to me. "Consider it a compliment. He wouldn't push if he didn't see potential."
Ryuu stood apart from us, meticulously wiping his glasses with a microfiber cloth. "Your stamina needs work," he said without looking up. "Your technique is impressive, but it means nothing if you can't maintain it through a full concert."
"Noted." I forced myself to stand, refusing to remain the only one on the floor. My legs protested, but I ignored them. This body was seventeen, healthy and strong. It just needed proper conditioning. "Anything else I should work on?"
Ryuu finally looked at me, his blue eyes critical behind his freshly cleaned lenses. "Your harmonization during 'Five Facets' was off. You're overthinking the arrangements."
"That's because he's adding depth," Daisuke countered softly. "His variations complemented the emotional arc of the bridge."
Ryuu's mouth tightened. "Variations weren't requested."
"But they worked," Seiji chimed in, bouncing to his feet. "Saitou-san noticed too. Did you see him nodding?"
Saitou approached from where he'd been speaking with the studio staff. "What I noticed," he said, "is that you're all dead on your feet. Enough for today. Get some food and rest."
"Food!" Seiji pumped his fist. "I'm starving. Ramen? There's that place two blocks over."
"Public location?" Ryuu frowned. "Not ideal."
"It's late," Seiji argued. "And they have those private booths in back."
"Still risky," Ryuu replied. He walked to his bag and pulled out what looked like a small bundle. When he unfurled it, I saw three face masks and caps. "I only brought three sets. I didn't anticipate..." He glanced at me with slight embarrassment.
"No problem," I said, running a hand through my damp hair. "I'm not a big idol anyway. Nobody would recognize me."
Ryuu's eyebrows rose slightly. "You underestimate the speed of social media. One post about the 'new PRISM member' and we'd have fans tracking us down."
"He's right," Daisuke said, accepting one of the masks. "Better safe than sorry."
"It's fine," I suggested. "You guys go ahead."
"No way!" Seiji protested. "It's your first day! We have to celebrate."
"Celebrate what?" Ryota snorted. "That he didn't collapse?"
"That he kept up," Daisuke corrected quietly.
Saitou, who had been listening to our exchange, sighed and pulled off his sunglasses. "Here." He handed them to me. "And take my cap too. It's not perfect, but it'll do for tonight."
"Thanks."
"Don't lose them," he warned, then checked his phone. "I need to head back to the office. Behave yourselves."
"Yes, sir," Ryuu replied promptly, while the others nodded with varying degrees of seriousness.
After changing into fresh clothes, we headed out into the Tokyo evening. The city pulsed around us, neon signs illuminating the crowded streets. Despite the hour, people filled the sidewalks – office workers heading home, tourists taking photos, young couples walking hand in hand. None spared us a second glance.
"This way," Seiji said, leading us down a side street. He walked backward for a few steps, grinning at me. "So what did you think of your first PRISM rehearsal?"
"Intense," I admitted. "But good. You guys have solid fundamentals."
"Fundamentals?" Ryota scoffed. "PRISM is beyond fundamentals. PRISM is excellence!"
"He means we have a strong foundation," Daisuke translated. "It's a compliment."
Ryota considered this, then nodded once, accepting the explanation.
We reached a small ramen shop tucked between a convenience store and a closed bookshop. Steam fogged the windows, and the rich aroma of broth and spices wafted out each time the door opened. My stomach growled in response.
"They know us here," Ryuu explained as we entered. "The owner's daughter is a fan, but they're discreet."
An elderly man greeted us with a nod of recognition and led us to a semi-private booth in the back corner. The space was small but clean, with worn wooden tables and faded posters on the walls. A television mounted in one corner played a music program on mute.
"The usual?" the man asked, and Ryuu nodded for the group.
"What's the usual?" I asked after he left.
"Tonkotsu for Ryuu and Daisuke, miso for me, and Ryota gets the spicy challenge bowl," Seiji explained. "What do you like?"
"Shoyu."
Daisuke nodded approvingly. "A purist."
"Just preferences," I shrugged. When the owner returned, I placed my order and settled back in the booth, finally allowing my muscles to relax.
"So," Ryuu began, his tone carefully neutral as he removed his mask now that we were seated in relative privacy. "Where exactly did you train before Saitou-san found you?"
The question sounded casual, but I recognized the intent behind it. He was probing for inconsistencies, trying to build a clearer picture of who I was and where I'd come from.
"Self-taught, mostly," I replied, which was true enough for this life. "Watched a lot of videos. Practiced whenever I could."
"Self-taught?" Ryuu's skepticism was evident.
"Some people have natural talent," Daisuke suggested.
"No one has that level of technical precision naturally," Ryuu countered.
I met his gaze steadily. "I had a lot of time on my hands growing up. Not much else to do in the orphanage except practice."
The mention of the orphanage shifted the atmosphere. Seiji's expression softened, and even Ryuu seemed momentarily disarmed.
"You grew up in the system?" Seiji asked quietly.
I nodded. "Since I was five."
Our food arrived, steaming bowls placed before each of us. The rich aroma made my mouth water, reminding me how hungry I actually was. We broke our chopsticks apart with synchronized "itadakimasu" and dug in.
For a few minutes, conversation paused as we ate. The ramen was excellent – the broth deep and flavorful, the noodles perfectly chewy. I watched Ryota attack his spicy challenge bowl with the same intensity he brought to dance practice, sweat beading on his forehead as he slurped.
"Good, right?" Seiji asked between bites.
"Very," I agreed. "Best I've had in a while."
"Post-practice ramen is tradition," Daisuke explained, delicately picking up a slice of chashu pork. "Started back when..." He trailed off, his expression clouding slightly.
"Back when we were with Zenith," Ryuu finished for him, his voice matter-of-fact but with an undercurrent of tension.
"Before traitor left," Ryota added bluntly, his mouth full.
An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. I knew they were referring to Tadashi, their former center who had abandoned them for a solo career.
"Well, traditions are good," I said finally. "I'm glad we're continuing this one."
Seiji smiled gratefully at my diplomatic response. "We have lots of traditions! Wait until you see our pre-show ritual. Ryota does this thing with—"
"That's enough," Ryuu cut him off. "Let's not give away all our secrets on the first day."
"Not secrets," Ryota protested. "Just PRISM spirit!"
"Speaking of PRISM," Daisuke said, smoothly changing the subject, "what did you think of our current repertoire, Toshiro?"
I considered the question, aware they were all watching me closely. "Strong foundation," I said carefully. "Good balance of styles. But there's room to push boundaries, try some new directions."
"New directions," Ryuu repeated, his tone neutral. "Such as?"
"Your sound has heavy K-pop influences, but there's potential to incorporate more diverse elements. Maybe some R&B techniques vocally, or urban contemporary dance styles."
"Urban contemporary?" Ryota's brow furrowed. "What's that?"
"It's a fusion style," I explained. "Combines hip-hop foundations with elements of jazz, ballet, and modern dance. Creates more fluid, emotional movements."
"Sounds complicated," Seiji said.
"It's about expression more than technical difficulty," I clarified. "Using your body to tell a story, not just execute steps."
Daisuke nodded slowly, his dark eyes thoughtful. "That aligns with what Saitou-san has been suggesting – finding ways to differentiate ourselves from standard idol groups."
"We're already different," Ryota insisted, pointing his chopsticks for emphasis. "PRISM is special!"
"We are," I agreed. "But the industry is crowded. Standing out means constantly evolving."
"And you think you know how we should evolve?" Ryuu asked, his tone carrying a hint of challenge.
"I have ideas. You all have experience. Seems like a good combination to me."
Seiji nodded enthusiastically. "That's what Saitou-san said too! That we need fresh perspective without losing what makes us PRISM."
Ryuu's expression remained guarded, but I noticed a slight relaxation in his shoulders. "We'll see," he said, returning to his food.
The conversation shifted to lighter topics – Seiji's disastrous attempt to cook for himself the previous week, a variety show appearance scheduled in three weeks, Ryota's ongoing battle with his smartphone's autocorrect function. I listened more than I spoke, observing the dynamics between them.
Despite the lingering shadow of Tadashi's departure, there was genuine camaraderie here. Daisuke's quiet wisdom, Seiji's boundless enthusiasm, Ryota's brash energy, even Ryuu's meticulous attention to detail – they balanced each other in ways they probably didn't even recognize.
As we finished our meal, I realized I was smiling. There was something unexpectedly comfortable about sitting in this cramped ramen shop with these four very different individuals.
"What?" Seiji asked, noticing my expression.
"Nothing," I replied. "Just thinking this was a good way to end the day."
"End?" Ryota laughed, slapping the table. "Day just starting! Tomorrow, real training begins!"
Ryuu sighed, but I caught the slight curve of his lips. "Five AM warm-up," he confirmed. "Don't be late."