The Heiress on Stage
Yana's POV
People always say that if you're born rich, your life is automatically perfect.
I wish I could say that's true, but honestly? It's just… loud.
From the moment I walk through the school gates, it's the same chorus every day:
"Good morning, Yana-chan!"
"You look so pretty today!"
"Yana-senpai, do you have practice later?"
I smile, wave, toss a playful wink here and there. Being the daughter of one of the wealthiest families in Japan means I don't even have to try to stand out—I already do. Add the fact that I'm a cheer dancer, and suddenly I'm not just Yana, I'm "Yana-sama." The admiration is flattering… but also exhausting.
Don't get me wrong, I like attention—sometimes. It's fun to make boys stutter just by tilting my head or smirking at them. One time, I dropped my pen on purpose, leaned down slowly to pick it up, and the poor guy beside me nearly fainted. I almost laughed out loud.
But the truth is, no matter how many guys confess, I don't care. I don't need a boyfriend to feel alive. Friends, laughter, dancing, and maybe a little sarcasm here and there—that's enough for me.
"Yanaaa!"
I turn my head, and there's Miki, one of my closest friends, running toward me with a strawberry milk in her hand. She's always dramatic, always late, and always begging me to cover for her in class.
"You're late again," I tease, raising an eyebrow.
She pouts. "Only by five minutes! Don't be so strict, Yana-sama."
"Stop calling me that." I chuckle. "I'm not your queen."
"Actually," she says, sipping her milk, "you kinda are. Everyone in this school worships you."
I roll my eyes but smile anyway. She's not wrong. Even teachers treat me differently. Some are terrified of offending me, others are suspiciously kind. I know why—because of my last name. Because I'm the "untouchable heiress."
In cheer practice later, I throw myself into the routine. Dancing feels good, like shaking off the weight of everyone's expectations. The gym echoes with claps and cheers, and when I land a perfect flip, the whole squad screams my name.
"Perfect as always, Yana!"
"Are you even human?!"
I laugh, brushing my bangs away from my face. "I'm an alien, didn't you know?"
Sometimes I think about how people only see the shine, the polished version of me. The daughter of wealth, the cheer dancer, the girl everyone wants to be friends with—or to date. But no one ever asks if I'm happy. Maybe they assume I already am.
As I walk home later, with my friends giggling beside me, I find myself wondering—
What would it be like to meet someone who doesn't care about the name "Yana Fujimoto"? Someone who sees me not as the heiress, but just… me?
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By the time I get home, the sun is already dipping low, painting the sky in gold and lavender. Our house—or should I say mansion—stands tall at the end of the private driveway, its windows glowing warmly like something out of a drama.
Most people would gasp if they saw it for the first time. The wide stone steps, the expensive cars lined in the garage, the garden trimmed like it belongs to royalty. But for me? It's just… home.
"Welcome back, Ojō-sama," the butler greets me with a polite bow as soon as I step inside. His voice is calm, rehearsed, as if he's done this a thousand times.
I kick off my shoes and grin. "Thanks, Kenji-san. Did my parents come home early today?"
"Yes. Dinner is ready in the main dining hall."
I almost groan. Family dinners in our household aren't just meals—they're events.
When I push open the tall doors of the dining hall, the long table already shines under the chandelier. My father sits at the head of the table, posture as straight as ever, his tailored suit still crisp even after a long day. My mother sits beside him, elegant in a silk blouse, sipping wine with that effortless grace I'll never quite master.
"Yana," my father says, his tone calm but firm. "You're late."
"I had cheer practice," I answer, sliding into my seat. The maids immediately place dishes in front of me—steak, salad, miso soup, everything lined up like a five-star restaurant. Sometimes, I wonder if they even think I eat like a normal teenager.
Mother smiles faintly, setting her glass down. "I heard you perfected your routine again today. One of the teachers called to tell me how admired you are at school."
I blink. "You're getting calls about that?"
"Of course. Your reputation reflects on us."
There it is. The subtle reminder that everything I do isn't just mine—it's tied to our name, our family, our wealth.
I stab a piece of steak with my fork. "Well, at least I'm good at something other than being rich."
"Don't be sarcastic, Yana," Father warns, though his eyes don't leave his plate.
I can't help but smirk. "Sorry. It's genetic, I guess."
Mother hides a small laugh behind her hand. Father sighs.
Dinner continues with the usual topics—business deals, charity galas, upcoming events I'm "expected" to attend. I nod, smile, give polite answers, all while my mind drifts elsewhere.
Truth is, sometimes I feel like an actress in my own house. The cheerful, admired Yana at school; the polished, obedient daughter at home. Both versions are real, but neither feels… complete.
"Yana," my father says suddenly, pulling me out of my thoughts. "You know you will eventually have responsibilities in the family business. Your education, your reputation, your connections—they all matter."
"I know," I reply quickly, but my chest tightens. "But I'm still in high school. Can I at least enjoy that for now?"
Silence falls for a moment, heavy and sharp. Then, to my surprise, my mother nods.
"She's right, dear. Let her breathe. Not everything has to be about business."
Father exhales, clearly not convinced, but he doesn't argue further. Instead, he finishes his wine and stands. "Just remember, Yana. Being born into this family is both a blessing and a responsibility. Don't forget who you are."
After he leaves, the hall feels less heavy. I glance at my mother, who gives me a small, tired smile.
"Don't mind him. He only wants what's best for you, in his own way."
"I know," I mumble, pushing my food around. "But sometimes it feels like I'm not allowed to just… be me."
Later, lying in my oversized bed in my oversized room, I stare at the chandelier on the ceiling. Everyone at school admires me. Everyone at home expects me.
But no one really knows me.
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"Yanaaa, hurry up!" Miki whined, tugging my sleeve as we walked out of the café. She had a giant crepe in her hand, strawberry syrup dripping dangerously close to her skirt. Behind us, Reina and Kana were busy arguing about which flavor of bubble tea was superior, while Ayaka was already planning our next karaoke session.
"Stop rushing me," I teased, licking the whipped cream off my finger. "Not everyone eats like they're in a speed-eating contest."
"Excuse you, this is art," Miki declared dramatically, raising her crepe like a trophy.
We ended up strolling toward the park, laughing too loudly, attracting glances from random people. I was used to it. Wherever I went, eyes followed—not just because of my family name, but because I had a group of friends who never shut up.
The park was calm, filled with families, couples, and kids chasing each other around. The air smelled faintly of grilled yakitori from a nearby stall, and the breeze felt nice against my face. For once, life felt… peaceful.
"Uh… guys?" Reina's voice suddenly cracked. She pointed a trembling finger ahead.
A large dog stood on the path, its leash dangling from its collar, no owner in sight. Its fur was dark, scruffy, and its sharp eyes locked right onto us.
Then it barked. Loud. Deep.
"KYAAA!" Miki screamed, dropping her crepe.
Kana and Ayaka didn't hesitate—they bolted like Olympic sprinters. Reina yelped something about and they vanished faster than I thought possible.
And me?
I tried to move. Really, I did. But my legs froze. My chest tightened. The bark echoed in my head like a drum.
The dog barked again, louder this time, and I stumbled backward. My heel caught on a loose stone, and before I knew it—
"Ah—!"
I lost my balance. The world tilted, my heart jumped into my throat, and I landed hard on the ground. My palms stung, my pride stung even worse.
The dog's growl rumbled low, and I wanted to scream, but no sound came out. My whole body was locked up.
"oh my god don't get closer please"
I bit my lip, forcing myself to move, to crawl, to do anything—
But I couldn't.
And for the first time in a long while… I felt small.
Someone help me please