Nanami Haruka sat in the back of the recording studio, her fingers hovering above the keys of the piano. Her long, wavy chestnut-brown hair cascaded over her shoulders as she absentmindedly tucked a loose strand behind her ear. Her green was fixed on the keys, but her mind was far away.
The studio buzzed with the familiar energy of creativity—producers barking out last-minute changes, sound engineers adjusting levels, and the members of the idol group laughing among themselves in the corner. Despite the noise, Haruka felt an unshakable emptiness.
The melody she had just composed filled the room, a delicate arrangement layered with subtle undertones of longing. It was precisely what the idols needed for their next big release, yet to Haruka, the notes felt hollow. As the lead producer gave her a thumbs-up from the sound booth, she forced a smile. She had become adept at pretending everything was fine.
No one knew the weight she carried. The name everyone knew her by—Shizuku—wasn't truly hers. It was borrowed, a remnant of a past she had tried to bury. Haruka brushed a strand of hair out of her face, attempting to focus on the success she had achieved as a composer. But every note she wrote echoed a whisper from the past, a call she couldn't ignore.
Haruka's composition was crafted for Aqua Notes, one of the top idol groups in the industry. They had begun as a small, local act, but after Haruka joined them as their exclusive composer, they skyrocketed to fame. The members of the group were everything Haruka was not—bubbly, full of life, and always smiling.
Her gaze drifted to the members of Aqua Notes, the idol group she had helped elevate. Yui, their leader, stood at the center of the room, her bright pink hair tied back in a high ponytail, her sapphire-blue eyes shimmering with the energy she always exuded. Yui was everything Haruka wasn't—confident, extroverted, and undeniably magnetic. Despite her tall, slender frame and graceful movements, Yui radiated warmth. It was no wonder she had become the face of the group.
Yui caught Haruka's eye and waved, her smile sparkling like the city lights outside. "You're amazing, Shizuku-san!" she called out, her voice brimming with genuine admiration. "This song is going to be a hit!"
Haruka forced a smile, nodding politely. It wasn't that she disliked Yui—quite the opposite. But she often felt that Yui was trying to pull her out of the shadows, trying to drag her into a world she wasn't sure she belonged in.
Her eyes shifted to the other members. Miyu, the youngest, stood quietly beside Yui, her sleek black hair falling to her shoulders. With her deep brown eyes and soft, reserved demeanour, Miyu often seemed out of place in the high-energy world of idols. She had always been shy in interviews, but her powerful voice, full of emotion, commanded the stage.
Then there was Rin, the group's main dancer, spinning in place with her short blonde hair tousled from rehearsal. Rin's green eyes gleamed with mischief as she moved, her tomboyish style and daring choreography setting her apart from the typical idol image. She never seemed to care about fitting in, always defying expectations with her wild, unpredictable energy.
As the group rehearsed their new song, Haruka's gaze drifted to the large window overlooking the city. Her reflection stared back at her—a woman who had everything: a successful career, fame, and a reputation as one of the best composers in the industry. Yet, it felt as if none of it were real.
The image of her twin sister, Shizuku, flickered in her mind, memories of a time when they had been inseparable, bound by a shared dream. Shizuku had been her light, her protector—until the day she was gone.
Haruka clenched her hands into fists, willing herself not to think about it. But she couldn't escape the past, no matter how far she ran. Shizuku's face would always linger in every song, in every melody. Her twin had died, but she had left behind her wish: "Grant my dream, Haruka."
Haruka's thoughts wandered back to that day. They had been young—too young to understand the darkness that would soon engulf their lives. The room had been small, cluttered with discarded toys and unfinished drawings. Haruka remembered the coldness of the air, the terror in her chest as their parents' shouting echoed through the walls.
Her father had stormed into the room, his face red with anger. She had been backed into a corner, trembling. But Shizuku stood between Haruka and the looming threat of their father's anger. Her chestnut-brown hair, identical to Haruka's, swayed slightly as she shielded her with her small body. "Don't hurt her!" Shizuku had screamed.
It was the last time Haruka saw her alive.
"Shizuku," Haruka whispered under her breath, her fingers absently pressing down on a piano key. The soft note rang out in the empty studio, resonating with haunting beauty.
In her dreams, her sister still visited her. Shizuku's ghost was not a terrifying apparition but a comforting presence, always smiling, always encouraging Haruka to move forward. To compose. To fulfil their shared dream.
"Shizuku-san?" A voice pulled Haruka out of her thoughts. It was Koji, the producer who had been with Aqua Notes since the beginning. A middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and thick-rimmed glasses, Koji exuded a calm, professional air. His dark brown eyes, hidden behind his glasses, seemed to scan the room, taking in every detail.
Haruka nodded, rising from the piano bench. "Is everything okay?" she asked, her voice quiet but steady.
Koji smiled faintly. "More than okay. You've done it again. This song is going to be a hit."
Haruka nodded politely, though she couldn't bring herself to share in the excitement. She glanced at the idols once more, their youthful energy filling the studio, and felt a pang of sadness. Her sister should have been here. This had been Shizuku's dream.
Haruka walked out of the studio, her footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. The city stretched out before her through the large windows, glowing with the light of a thousand lives being lived. She checked her phone and saw the date—Shizuku's birthday.
A lump formed in her throat. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her emotions at bay. "I'm still here, Shizuku," she whispered to the empty corridor. "I'm doing this for you. Always for you."
But deep down, Haruka wondered how long she could keep living in her sister's shadow. Would there ever be a moment when she could stop being "Nanami Shizuku" and start being herself?
For now, all she could do was compose, just as Shizuku had asked her to. But as she walked through the empty halls, the weight of the past pressed down on her, reminding her of the promise she had made and the dreams that would never truly be hers.