✠ ᴏ ʙ s ᴇ ʀ ᴠ ᴇ ʀ ·ᴏ ғ — ✠
❝You think so?❞ Her voice emerged carefully from within, soft-spoken and gentle. Surprise mingled on her features, hand swiping stray locks of hair quickly behind her ear.
It was odd for usually sheepish girl to speak with strangers, but circumstances had drawn in favor of conversation. After a particularly strenuous ordeal with the bus timetables, the two were now seated at the foot of an impressive fountain, water cascading and dropping heavily back into the pool. The dark haired boy seemed particularly nonchalant, his body language open and friendly. On the other hand the middle schooler was tucked into herself, shoulders foreword and eyes down-cast. Seemingly complete opposites.
❝I guess I thought they were joking— at first, I mean.❞ She said, lacing her fingers. ❝I thought, me? An idol? There’s no way that could ever happen.❞
She turned her entwined fingers over, examining the bellies of her palms. A small smile was forming on her face, eyes softening in a reminiscent fashion. Every one had dreams of being famous, even idle fancies; but facing it in reality was terrifying. His words warmed her, the way he looked at her sincerely and honestly. She felt no malice or ill will, it was almost perfectly portrayed.
❝They want to give me a new name, to help me become this new person. Soon I’ll be introducing myself as someone else.❞ She looked into his eyes for the first time, the older boy who’s name she didn’t even know, and let her true feelings shine through.
❝’Risechī.’ Does it suit me?❞
✠ ᴍ ᴜ ɴ ᴅ ᴀ ɴ ᴇ ·ᴠ ᴏ ɪ ᴄ ᴇ s ✠
She seemed so impossibly withdrawn, it made paying attention to her counter-intuitive. But he does so sincerely because she's young and betraying signs of that delicate phase of her life, much of which Naoya himself hadn’t experienced. The eyewitness accounts of his female friends’ struggles to come to terms with themselves at that age were, however, more than education. Although it didn’t - still doesn’t - feel as though there is much he can do to improve their dilemma, the least he supposes he can do besides listening is understanding.
Having her own place beneath the spotlight already set her apart from the competition, putting in her a better position than she makes herself out to be. Considering the pressure Uesugi, the ambitious class clown of their day, receives for maintaining TV ratings as a personality -- well, her doubts seem reasonable on that particular front.·
She isn’t vomiting from stress like Uesugi had before his first televised appearance, at least, and he even has reason to believe she has it harder, being a girl in her salad days. Not that he would really bring himself to voice those thoughts. It probably isn’t his place to meddle more than he should, anyhow.
Hands remaining stationary in his pockets, he shifts his footing and adjusts his place on the fountain rim, letting the perpetually-cycling pool stifle his chuckle.·
“Sure,” he answers simply, because it’s the truth, an affectionate nickname made to indulge her bellowing fans.·“You look the part. I think your fans will love it, too, considering you’re the one under that name. Risecchi. Guess I’m the first to call you that,” Naoya offers another easygoing smile, turning the subject back on to her.·
“You don’t think so yourself? That it suits you.”