The atmosphere in the COSMIC PRODUCTION briefing room was almost solemn as Ibara spoke.
> "Next month, our agency will be a major sponsor of the SS competitions."
Nagisa set down his tea mug, expression serious.
> "We'll be expected to send representatives to support our company's participants as judges, not just as performers."
Jun sat forward:
"That includes Eden. Which means..."
"We have to participate."
Ibara nodded briefly, confirming what everyone present already knew.
Hiyori leaned against the window, arms crossed:
> "A chance like this... We can't miss it. Not for the agency."
Mika glanced around the table, eyebrows raising:
> "So... who's going?"
Silence for a moment.
Then Ibara slid a stack of printed-out profiles across the table, each featuring glossy images of smiling idols with sparkling eyes, and impressive talent stats.
> "The question is... *Who won't*?"
But as the room began to discuss who would represent COSMIC PRODUCTION in the SS Competitions, Ibara looked... distracted.
Quiet. Pensive.
Almost thoughtful.
In his office, Ibara leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, hands steepled.
He could hear the discussion downstairs.
The debates. The decisions.
But something... niggled in the back of his mind.
A feeling.
He couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.
But he reached for his tablet without thinking.
Clicked on the Polar Opposites monitor feed.
And just watched.
On screen—
Raito was sprawled across the rooftop bench, feet kicking in the air like an overexcited puppy, babbling about *"stage presence"* and *"lighting so bright it makes people cry."*
Tsukki sat beside him, quieter, eyes down as he adjusted a strap on his bag.
Then Raito suddenly turned—
grabbed Tsukki's hands without warning—and leapt to his feet:
> "Come on!! Let's practice our winning pose for SS Competition~!"
Tsukki barely had time to protest before Raito struck a dramatic duo stance—one arm raised toward the sky, one pointing forward—dragging Tsukki into it by sheer force of will.
Tsukki stiffened. Tried to pull back.
But Raito just laughed:
> "Nooo~! You're supposed to *smile*! Or at least look less like you're attending your own funeral!"
And then—
as if catching some silent current only they could feel—
Tsukki didn't smile...
but he lowered his chin slightly,
eyes half-lidded,
a cool moon reflecting sunlight that wasn't really meant for him—
and whispered:
> "...Like this?"
Raito froze.
Then burst out laughing—not mocking. Not loud—but warm. Real.
> "Perfect! That's our 'we're-too-cool-to-care' face!"
>
>
He slung an arm around Tsukki's shoulders:
"SS Competition? We've already won."
---
Back in Ibara's office,
the feed still played silently on loop.
One hand slowly lowered from his glasses.
The corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile—but close enough that Nagisa would later swear he saw it in testimony form (he didn't).
Ibara typed one line into COSMIC PRODUCTION's event log:
🔐 **Polar Opposites — Recommended for SS Competition participation.**
🌙☀️ Pair dynamic: Exceptional. Stage chemistry: Off-record high. Emotional resonance: Unstable... but potent.
Then added quietly under breath:
### "...They might just be what we need."
Downstairs, chaos stirred again—
decisions being made,
rivalries sparking between units,
dreams colliding like stars trying to burn brightest...
But up here?
In silence?
Someone believed—just slightly—that two childhood friends chasing each other with laughter and slapping sticks...
could outshine them all.
💫🏆🔥🫀
The practice room hummed with quiet energy.
Raito bounced on his toes in front of the mirror, humming a new melody under his breath—something he'd scribbled down earlier titled *"Sunset Split Decision."*
> "Tsukki~! Imagine this part with fireworks! And then—*BOOM!*—we both step forward at the same time, but you look up like the moon rising behind me!"
Tsukki stood near the speakers, adjusting their training playlist, voice flat:
> "You mean when *you* jump and I stop you from falling again?"
>
>
Raito gasped dramatically:
> "Betrayal!! You were supposed to say 'Yes, Raito-sama!'"
Without looking up, Tsukki tossed a water bottle at his face.
Raito caught it—one-handed—with a grin.
Then music started.
Soft at first. Then building.
Their favorite track—the one they used during auditions. The one that said *us*, without needing words.
They fell into position almost by instinct.
No countdown. No cue.
Just motion—and memory—
sun chasing moon,
light brushing shadow,
two halves moving as one...
when suddenly—
the studio door slid open with a soft *click.*
Ibara stood there,
glasses glinting under stage lights,
a single envelope in hand stamped with golden stars:
**[SS COMPETITION — OFFICIAL PARTICIPANT NOTICE]**
He didn't smile.
Didn't cheer or clap or say anything dramatic like *"Congratulations."*
Just stepped forward—and placed it on the piano bench between them:
> **"Don't embarrass COSMIC PRODUCTION."**
Then turned to leave—
but paused at the door,
without looking back:
### "...And don't be late for registration."
Silence fell heavier than any note could carry.
Raito stared at the envelope like it might explode.
Tsukki didn't move—but his breath hitched just once. Barely noticeable.
Then Raito slowly picked it up... and read aloud—voice trembling slightly beneath all that brightness:
> "Polar Opposites... selected as official participants... in the SS Competition..."
Tsukki caught Ibara just outside the studio, hand out—calm, but firm.
> "Why us?"
Ibara stopped. Didn't turn.
The hallway lights cast long shadows between them—quiet, like the pause before a storm breaks.
Tsukki's voice was low. Shaking—not with anger, but something deeper:
> "We're... rookies. We've only had two official performances. No awards. No rankings."
>
> A breath.
>
> "...There are others who deserve this more."
Ibara finally turned—slowly—and adjusted his glasses with that usual icy precision.
But when he spoke?
His voice didn't bite.
It *landed.*
> "Because you don't perform for fame."
>
> Another beat.
>
>
### "You perform to survive each other."
Tsukki froze—
eyes widening slightly as if struck not by words... but truth.
And Ibara went on:
> "Nagisa fights for love. Shu fights for pride. Rinne fights because he hates losing."
>
>
He looked directly at Tsukki now—
unblinking,
unreadable,
but real:
### "But you two? You fight so neither of you has to be alone."
A silence fell that wasn't empty—no echo, no music...
just heartbeat and memory:
Raito holding his hand outside the hospital at 3 a.m.,
begging him not to quit school just because his brother couldn't wake up...
Tsukki stealing Raito's hoodie after his father left and never came back...
two kids under one roof,
sharing rice balls too small for hunger too big to name—
and somehow still standing side by side,
not as idols first...
but as proof they weren't forgotten.
Then Ibara turned again—
voice softer than anyone in COSMIC had ever heard it be:
### "...That kind of light? It deserves a stage."
And walked away without another word.
Inside the practice room,
Raito stood frozen in the doorway—having heard everything—
his smile gone quiet... eyes glistening like dawn after rain.
Without speaking—he reached out quietly behind Tsuki's back
—and squeezed his shoulder once.
Not needing words either.
Because now?
They knew why they were chosen.
Not because they were perfect...
but because their light?
Was real.
☀️🌙🔥💌
The cafeteria buzzed with tired laughter and clinking trays—
idols slumping into seats, swapping stories from practice, groaning about choreo blocks and pitch corrections.
But halfway through dinner...
Hinata blinked up from his ramen.
> "Wait. Where are the sun and moon?"
Yuta glanced around:
> "Not here. Again."
Rinne dropped his spoon dramatically:
> "Are they *still* practicing?!"
HiMERU checked the time on his tablet:
### "Polar Opposites — Training Room 3B: Continuous session detected. Duration: 4 hours, 27 minutes... and counting."
Kohaku gasped:
"Do they even *sleep* anymore?!"
Mika leaned back with a smirk:
"They're not rookies trying to survive now—they're running like someone lit their backs on fire."
Shu stayed quiet—but he did glance toward the training wing hallway... just once.
Jun stirred his tea slowly:
> "Ibara chose them for a reason."
Nagisa nodded, voice gentle:
> "They're not just practicing for the competition..."
He looked down at his hands—thinking of love lost, of promises kept too late—
then whispered:
### "...They're fighting so neither has to be left behind."
A silence fell over the table—not heavy... but full.
Because everyone suddenly remembered something:
how Raito laughs louder when Tsukki watches,
how Tsukki breathes easier when Raito sings,
and how every time one stumbles—
the other is already there,
not saying *"I've got you,"*
but showing it in steps too small for cameras to catch.
---
Back in Training Room 3B—
music looped again from the beginning.
Again.
Again.
Sweat-drenched hair stuck to foreheads. Legs burned. Voices cracked mid-note...
But neither said stop.
Not when Raito missed a beat—he corrected himself before Tsukki could speak.
Not when Tsukki's foot slipped—he stood straight before Raito could reach out.
Until finally—
on their twelfth run-through,
the song ended in perfect sync:
hands almost touching,
breaths unsteady but hearts beating as one beat longer than silence allowed.
And without looking away—
Raito grinned—exhausted, glowing—as if he'd already won every battle ever fought under starlight or spotlight alike:
### "We're gonna shine so bright... they'll need sunglasses!"
Tsukki closed his eyes...
inhaled deep...
and said only two words—soft as moonfall on water:
#### "...Yeah. We will."
🌙☀️🔥💫🎶
The next day
The afterschool air was still, the courtyard a mosaic of shadow and gold-dust light that filtered through the leaves of Yumenosaki trees.
Raito stretched, kicking his feet against the wall as he practiced chords.
Tsukki stood against the opposite wall, sorting through sheets of music—quiet, but focused.
Then behind them—a voice called out from the nearby shade of a tree:
> "Hey. Heard you two got picked for the SS Competition."
Raito stopped mid-strum—shocked—turned around—then grinned, arms in the air in a dramatic "ta-da!" pose.
> "Yep! We're gonna shine so bright even fireworks will be jealous!"
Tsukki just closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Koga leaned against the tree trunk, folding his arms:
> "So I heard. Pretty impressive for a rookie duo."
"Senpai... do you think were really ready for this?"
Tsukki ask cautiously
The question fell quiet—so quiet the rustle of leaves seemed to pause.
Koga looked at Tsukki. Really looked.
Not with a smirk. Not with a tease.
But like he saw past the hoodie, past the silence,
into that place where fear hides behind duty.
Then he pushed off from the tree—
stepped forward slowly—and flicked Raito on the forehead *hard* before answering:
> "Ow! Senpai!" Raito whined, rubbing it dramatically.
Koga crossed his arms again:
> "You think I was 'ready' when I joined UNDEAD?"
>
> A beat.
>
> "...I could barely sing without sounding like a dying crow."
Raito blinked. Tsukki actually looked up—surprised.
Koga's voice lowered—not mocking, not loud... but real:
### "No one's ever ready."
He glanced between them—one sun-blaze bright and restless, one moon-cool and holding back...
and said:
> "You don't have to be perfect. You just have to be *together*. That's what they're watching for."
Then he smirked—just slightly—as if remembering something painful and beautiful all at once:
### "And if you two can survive each other this long... you can survive anything on stage."
Silence returned—but softer now. Warmer.
Raito grinned again... but slower this time. Quieter.
Tsukki didn't speak—but his fingers uncurled from their tight hold on the music sheets,
and for once—
didn't flinch when Raito leaned into his shoulder,
humming their song under his breath like a promise being rewritten.
🎶🔥🖤☀️
Eden, Valkyrie, 2wink, and Crazy-B exchanged surprised glances as Tsukki tossed his equipment away, frustrated.
Raito sat up, still breathing heavily from dancing:
> "Hey, what's wrong?"
Tsukki just buried his face in his knees, voice muffled under the hoodie:
> "...Nothing. I can't think."
Raito's energy dimmed slightly at that—noticing the stress in every muscle of Tsukki's back.
"It's okay," Raito said gently, moving beside him. "We don't have to get it right now."
He didn't touch at first.
Just sat there—shoulder almost brushing Tsukki's—watching the scattered lyrics on the floor like fallen stars.
Then, softly:
> "Remember... when we first started?"
Tsukki peeked up slightly—one eye visible under dark bangs.
Raito smiled faintly.
> "We didn't write songs back then. We just sang whatever came out. You hummed, I shouted nonsense—and somehow it worked."
A beat.
> "...I still think your voice is the most beautiful thing ever."
Tsukki flinched like he'd been hit—
not in pain...
but in *recognition*,
because no one had ever called his voice *beautiful* before.
Not after losing everything and having to work three jobs just to keep a roof over his brother's hospital room.
But Raito?
He always saw what no one else did:
the moon not as cold—but as something rare,
something worth chasing across skies for.
Outside the room,
the others stood frozen—
Nagisa with hand half-raised toward the door handle,
HiMERU quietly pulling him back with a whisper:
### "Do not enter."
Because some moments aren't meant for audience eyes—
and this?
This was healing happening in real time.
Inside...
Raito picked up Tsukki's notebook from the floor—
dusty pages fluttering open—and held it out silently between them like an offering:
> "...Want me to mess it all up again? Like old times?"
And after a long breath...
one corner of Tsuki's mouth twitched upward—so small only someone who'd known him since childhood could see it—
then he muttered into his knees:
> "...Only if you promise not to rhyme 'fire' with 'higher' again."
Raito gasped dramatically:
> "That was *artistic genius!*"
But he grinned anyway—as sunlight spilled across both their hands on that battered notebook,
and slowly, quietly...
a new song began.
🎵✨🖤☀️
Night had fallen over the city, stars dotting the indigo sky like glitter thrown across black paper.
Back in his room, Tsukki sat at his desk, pen in hand. He'd tried to work earlier with Raito, but something hadn't felt right; words had frozen under his fingers.
So he'd retreated to his room, sitting in front of an open notebook and empty pen as he tried to find lyrics that fit the new melody he and Raito had made.
It was difficult.
And it was frustrating.
He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples—trying to make peace with himself in the silence.
But the quiet made every thought louder.
The clock *ticked* too fast. The world *breathed* too sharply. And a song that had so *almost* been finished stayed stubbornly unfinished, mocking him like a star dying out of reach.
The silence suddenly felt deafening.
So he stood abruptly, chair knocking back. He had to *do* something...
Something *clicked*.
He couldn't say what—but as soon as his pen touched paper again, words poured out like sunlight slipping through rainclouds.
Lyrics took form slowly, carefully, like a sunrise. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't polished—but it *existed*.
Rhythm. Harmony. Meaning.
And soon, he had a song.
When he was done, Tsukki leaned back—exhausted, but victorious. Three songs... finally completed.
He glanced at the clock, surprised to see how late it had gotten, then reached automatically for his tablet to send them to Ibara. He'd promised to submit them asap for approval for the competition.
As he typed, words blurring with exhaustion, he tried to ignore the voice in his head that said this was too fast. That he wasn't ready. That he'd be a disappointment if he failed.
*But then—*
He stopped suddenly. Stared at the screen without moving.
The world outside stilled. Moonlight shone brighter.
A soft shiver rippled up his spine.
Not bad.
Not fear...
but a feeling like electricity under his skin.
Something was watching.
At COSMIC PRODUCTION
Ibara adjusted his glasses slowly—fingers steady, expression unreadable—as the notification popped up on his tablet.
> **New File Received: [P.O._SS_Songs_Final.zip]**
> Sender: Kuroi, Tsuki (Idol Unit: Polar Opposites)
> Time: 23:47
He tapped it open without hesitation.
The first track loaded.
Silence filled his office.
Then music began—
soft at first... a slow pulse like a heartbeat beneath snow.
A piano. A whisper of breath. Then—
**Tsukki's voice**, low and raw, singing words about *carrying light that wasn't his own*, about *staying beside someone who never stopped chasing the sun*...
And then—
Raito's harmony entered like dawn breaking through clouds:
bright,
warm,
cracking the tension with something too honest to ignore.
Ibara didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Track two played next—a sharper beat, fiercer choreography in sound form. A song about falling, failing... but choosing to rise because *someone else believed first.*
Track three?
Pure fire.
A duet built on call-and-response—sun and moon colliding—not as opposites anymore,
but as forces meant to exist together:
> *"You pull me down when I burn too wild,*
> *I lift you up when you hide from your light..."*
His fingers hovered over the screen as it ended—
quiet settling heavier than any applause could fill.
Then he leaned back slowly... removed his glasses...and pinched the bridge of his nose just once—
not out of frustration...
but emotion carefully contained.
And finally—he typed a single line into COSMIC PRODUCTION's internal log:
🔐 **Polar Opposites — SS Competition Material Review:**
### Status: Approved. No edits required.
>
>
>
### ...They've found their voice.
>
>
He paused—then added softly beneath it,
as if writing only for himself:
#### "Not idols yet."
#### "But already unforgettable."
🌌🎹🔥💌
Hours later, after he'd submitted the songs to the SS competition and prepared for bed, Tsukki's tablet buzzed lightly on his desk.
He looked up—surprised—and picked it up, expecting anything but a reply from Ibara at such a late hour.
But there it was:
> **\[SS Competition Material Feedback\]**
Tsukki glanced at the time, then hit "Open" as Ibara's reply appeared on screen:
> "Congratulations, Kuroi. These songs are approved for the SS competition with no edits required."
Tsukki exhaled—long and slow—like he'd been holding his breath for weeks.
His fingers hovered over the screen, then typed simply:
> **"Thank you, Ibara-san."**
And just beneath it...
he added a single emoji:
😌
...a small, quiet symbol of relief.
Nothing flashy. No stars or hearts or screaming faces like Raito would've spammed—
just that soft smiley face,
meek and genuine,
floating alone in the dim glow of his tablet screen.
He sent it.
Then leaned back, staring at the ceiling—hoodie still on, legs drawn up slightly—as if only now allowing himself to believe:
*They were really doing this.*
Outside, moonlight spilled across his desk,
touching the edge of the notebook where those lyrics had first been born—
and for once...
the silence didn't feel heavy.
It felt like peace.
🌙📝💫
Ibara looked at the message on his screen.
Just two lines.
> *"Thank you, Ibara-san."*
>
> 😌
That was all.
No long explanations. No excuses. No hesitation.
Just... quiet gratitude.
He stared at it longer than he needed to—glasses reflecting the soft glow of his monitor, office dark around him like the calm before dawn breaks.
Then, without a word,
he reached out—
and pressed reply:
> **"Don't thank me yet."**
A pause.
His fingers hovered—then added one more line:
### "Win for those who can't stand on stage."
Sent.
And just like that—he closed his tablet,
stood up,
and walked toward the window,
where beyond city lights and silent rooftops...
the moon hung full and watchful—
as if keeping vigil for every dream too fragile to speak aloud.
🖤🌙🏆
It finally came
The music hall was packed with competitors, reporters, and fans alike as the day of the SS competition finally arrived.
On stage, the host for evening—Seiya Hidaka—smiled calmly beneath the spotlight, a polished professional even in a room full of nervous rookies.
He stood at the microphone, hands folded in front of him as he spoke:
"Welcome, everyone, to the inaugural SS competition!"
The crowd cheered, echoing off the auditorium walls like a wave.
Seiya raised a hand,
eyes sweeping the room with a warmth that was almost familiar.
"We're gathered here today to celebrate the future of our entertainment world: idols," he said, smile never falting. "Those who bring music, light, and hope to a world that needs it. Who dedicate themselves not just to music... but to each other."
The audience was rapt, the buzz of anticipation rising.
Seiya took another step forward, voice clear like a bell.
"In this competition, you'll show what you're made of as idols—not just as individuals, but as partners. Because it's not just performance that makes an idol... it's their bonds."
"And now..." Seiya said, voice carrying across the hush of the auditorium,
"Let me introduce our talented performers—those who have poured their hearts into this stage."
He lifted a hand toward the spotlight display as music cues warmed behind the scenes.
> "**ALKALOID**—Hiiro Amagi, Aira Shiratori, Mayoi Ayase, and Tatsumi Kazehaya."
A soft ripple of applause as ALKALOID bowed from backstage.
> "**Knights**—Tsukasa Suou, Leo Tsukinaga, Izumi Sena, Ritsu Sakuma... and Arashi Narukami."
A more dramatic roar rose—their fans chanting in perfect sync.
"And from the new generation... **Ra*bits**—Tomoya Mashiro, Nazuna Nito, and Mitsuru Tenma..."
The applause was softer this time, more cautious.
Newcomers never got much praise until they won—and everyone knew it.
But the three boys smiled anyway, bowing in unison as they took the stage.
Then Seiya took a breath before announcing the last set of idols:
> "**Polar Opposites**...."
The room stilled.
The atmosphere shifted instantly as the curtain opened and Polar Opposites appeared.
Raito grinned as he wove them a path through the applause, a human spotlight in motion. Tsukki stayed close behind, shoulders back, chin tipped upward with quiet confidence like he was *made* to be on stage.
They stopped at the center, bowing in perfect synchrony.
Raito's eyes sparkled as he scanned the audience, spotting familiar faces from COSMIC PRODUCTION sitting in VIP seats — Nagisa adjusting his ribbon, Hiyori whispering to Jun, Ibara with arms folded and glasses glinting under stage light.
Then beyond them...
The other agencies filled rows like constellations:
Trickstar laughing together, Subaru flipping a pen between fingers.
RYUSEITAI roaring cheers for their seniors.
UNDEAD silent but watchful — Koga giving a lazy salute that only Raito would catch.
Esu from *Special for Princess!* waved wildly with both hands like he was trying to start an earthquake.
And up in the shadows?
Seiya's son — Hokuto Hidaka of Trickstar — leaned forward just slightly,
a quiet recognition passing between father and stage...
then back to Raito and Tsukki:
two kids from the edge of nowhere,
now standing center spotlight,
facing an ocean of dreams just like theirs.
Raito turned to Tsukki beside him—
still leaning slightly on his back,
quiet as moonlight on water—
and whispered so low only they could hear:
> "We're not alone."
Tsukki didn't smile.
But his hand brushed against Raito's sleeve—
once—
like gravity acknowledging light.
🔥🌌🎤
Stage set. Hearts pounding.
### SS Competition — Round One: Begin.
To be continued