Chapter 75: A Distant Melody

After Chasing Stardust's livestream ended. The conversation with Mirei lingered in Kaede thoughts, looping like a song she couldn't stop hearing. Her heart weighed heavy. She knew she couldn't leave things as they were — the misunderstandings, the distance, the unspoken words. With a deep sigh, she picked up her phone again, hesitant but resolute, and began typing a message.

"It's okay, Mirei. I want to meet and talk. Let me know when you have time."

Kaede reread the text a few times before sending it, her thumb hovering over the screen. The simple words carried so much weight. Hitting send, she exhaled deeply, placing her phone on the table. Now, all she could do was wait.

---

The hours stretched on until her phone buzzed, Mirei's reply lighting up the screen.

"I'm sorry, Kaede. I don't know when I'll be free, but I'll let you know if I can."

Kaede frowned, reading the message twice. She could feel the regret in Mirei's words, but the uncertainty stung. Pushing back her disappointment, she composed a quick reply:

"Okay, good luck with your promotions, Mirei."

The conversation ended there, leaving Kaede feeling hollow. She sighed again, standing to pace around her small room.

---

Despite her personal turmoil, Kaede had plenty to celebrate. Second Chance was performing better than she had ever imagined. Sales surpassed their first album, and their growing fanbase was proof of their hard work. Invitations to shows were pouring in, and their street performances drew larger crowds with each passing day.

But today was April 2nd, a bittersweet milestone. It was the release day of Starry Night, Celestial's third album, and also the first anniversary of Chasing Stardust. Kaede couldn't help but remember the showcase from last time, to watch Mirei's on stage is really one of the best moment in her life. She wished she could attend Celestial's event again, but her own schedule was packed with promotional activities for the band's anniversary.

Their conflicting schedules left no room for reunions. The distance between her and Mirei wasn't just physical anymore. The awkwardness... Neither of them wanted it, but it seemed impossible to avoid.

---

Mirei, too, felt the strain of their separation. As Celestial's leader, her schedule was more relentless than ever. Still, she found ways to mention Chasing Stardust in interviews, hoping to give them a boost. She didn't just want Kaede to succeed — she needed her to.

But Mirei's world wasn't without its challenges. With Celestial's skyrocketing popularity came an inevitable increase in criticism. For every fan who adored them, there was someone ready to tear them down. Mirei often reminded her group to focus on the positive, to let the love of their fans outweigh the negativity.

"Remember," she would say during their meetings, "haters only come after those who are worth talking about. Let's give them a reason to keep watching us."

Her words were meant to inspire, but even Mirei wasn't immune to the weight of it all. Exhaustion crept into her bones, and there were nights when she found herself staring at the ceiling, doubting her ability to lead.

---

On April 7th, Celestial prepared for their first performance at a university stage. The day was unseasonably windy, the chill biting through their costumes. Mirei's chest felt tight even before they stepped on stage, but she forced herself to smile as always.

The wind whipped at them as they performed, and the strain of singing live against the harsh conditions began to show. Mirei prided herself on her endurance, but today, something was different. Her throat felt dry, her voice wavered, and the cold made her movements sluggish.

By the time they finished their set, the group gathered backstage, their faces pale and drawn. Mirei could see the worry in their eyes, a reflection of her own fears.

"That wasn't our best," Hikari said softly, breaking the heavy silence.

"It was the wind," Minami added, trying to sound optimistic. "People will understand."

But the unease lingered. The murmurs of the crowd had been different this time, less enthusiastic, more critical. As they checked their phones for online reactions, the truth hit like a tidal wave.

"Celestial can't sing live."

"Overrated."

"Disappointing performance from a top group."

"What did they do in their trainee days?"

The comments were endless, a storm of negativity that threatened to drown them. Mirei's hands trembled as she scrolled, her breath hitching. She felt the weight of their disappointment pressing down on her shoulders.

"Mirei, stop reading those," Ayumi said, gently taking her phone.

Mirei tried to smile, but it was strained. "I'm fine," she lied.

But she wasn't.

---

As the group began to pack up, Mirei felt the room spinning. Her chest tightened, her vision blurred, and the voices around her faded into the background. Before anyone could react, her legs gave out, and she collapsed.

"Mirei!"

The panic in Emi's voice jolted the others into action. Minami knelt beside her, trying to rouse her, while Ayumi frantically called for help.

"She's burning up," Minami whispered, brushing Mirei's damp hair from her face.

The team moved quickly, helping Mirei onto a couch and giving her water. She opened her eyes weakly, looking around at their worried faces.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I let you all down."

"No, Mirei," Hikari said firmly. "You didn't let anyone down. We'll handle this together."

Mirei nodded faintly, her body too weak to argue. As she lay there, the events of the day replayed in her mind, the weight of her responsibilities pressing harder than ever.

For the first time in years, she allowed herself to cry.

---

That night, as the group rested in their dorm, Mirei stared at her phone. She wanted to text Kaede, to tell her everything — the struggles, the failures, the doubts. But the words wouldn't come.

Instead, she typed a simple message:

"I hope your anniversary went well. Thinking of you."

It wasn't much, but it was all she could manage.

Kaede's reply came quickly:

"It did. Thanks, Mirei. I hope you're okay."

Mirei smiled faintly, her chest tightening in a way that felt both painful and comforting. For now, this connection would have to be enough.