Wanderers of Sorceria 

In the Stillness 1

Tsukiko takes on a new TV Drama role that challenges her sense of self. Astra tries to figure out what the true nature of her friendship with Tsukiko is.

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## Versatility in Bloom

The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the frosted glass panels of Moon River Talent Agency's office. Tsukiko Kisaragi sat in a padded leather chair opposite Arisa's desk, a casting sheet held delicately between her fingers. She had arrived on time, as she always did-- poised, soft-spoken, and attentive.

Arisa, youthful and sharp beyond her years, leaned forward slightly. Her desk was neat, save for a leather-bound planner, a desktop computer monitor, and a half-drunk mug of herbal tea. Her soft brown hair framed her face, and her eyes sparkled with intuition and knowing.

"I had a feeling you should see this," Arisa said, tapping her nail lightly on the casting sheet. "'Yume's Inner World.' I believe this role is meant for you."

She slid the page over to Tsukiko's side of the desk.

----

Casting Call: Lead Role - Yume Takahashi

Project Title: Yume's Inner World (TV Drama Series)

Production Company: [Production Company Name]

Casting Director: [Casting Director Name]

Logline: A seemingly ordinary high school girl navigates the pressures of teenage life, while her vibrant and chaotic inner world, populated by vividly costumed alter egos representing her true feelings, is revealed to the audience.

Role: Yume Takahashi (Lead, Female, 17)

* A seemingly polite and compliant high school student who outwardly adheres to social norms.
* Beneath her calm exterior lies a rich and often surreal inner world that manifests visually through distinct "inner selves."
* The actress cast must be capable of portraying both Yume's quiet outward demeanor and the exaggerated personalities and physicality of her inner selves.
* This role requires exceptional versatility, physicality, and a willingness to embrace comedic and potentially unconventional portrayals.

Character Breakdown (Note: Specific identities of inner selves will be explored further during auditions):

* Inner Self A: Represents Yume's deep-seated vulnerability and desire for comfort. Requires portraying a childlike demeanor and physical regression in outlandish costuming. Comfort with physical comedy and expressing strong emotions non-verbally is essential.

* Inner Self B: Represents Yume's yearning for attention, validation, and a desire to shine. Requires embodying an energetic and expressive persona with a flair for performance and visual spectacle. Some potential for stylized movement or dance.

* Inner Self C: Represents Yume's frustration with authority and her rebellious spirit. Requires portraying a defiant and independent attitude, with a potential for physical swagger and comedic "toughness."

* Inner Self D: Explores Yume's burgeoning sexuality and her navigation of self-image and attraction. Requires a portrayal that can range from coy and self-conscious to potentially more confident and alluring, within a high school context. Comfort with exploring themes of identity and self-perception is necessary.

* Inner Self E: Represents Yume's outward presentation of politeness, service, and a desire to conform. Requires a nuanced portrayal of practiced compliance that may mask underlying tensions or true feelings. A strong ability to convey subtle emotions through facial expressions and body language is key.

Additional Notes:

* The series will utilize visual and comedic elements to portray Yume's inner world.
* The actress cast will be required to embody multiple distinct characters within the same role, often with significant costume and physical transformations.
* A strong sense of comedic timing and a willingness to embrace the absurd are highly desired.
* Prior experience with physical comedy or character work is a plus.
* Must be comfortable with potentially unconventional costuming and scenarios.

Audition Requirements:

* Candidates will be asked to perform scenes as the outwardly compliant Yume.
* Candidates may also be asked to embody one or more of the described "inner selves" based on provided scenarios and character prompts.

Submissions:

* Please submit headshot, resume, and reel (if available) to [Casting Email Address].

Deadline: [Deadline Date]

We strongly encourage versatile and imaginative actresses to submit.

----

Tsukiko's eyes traced the page silently. She looked calm, but Arisa could tell she was digesting the details rapidly, already imagining the performance possibilities.

"The lead role," Tsukiko murmured, surprised. "But... this isn't just one character."

Arisa smiled. "Exactly. It's six."

Tsukiko blinked. "Yume and her five inner selves..."

"The casting description is intentionally vague," Arisa continued, "but that's what makes this so interesting. The production company wants someone who can embody wildly different energies-- childlike vulnerability, flamboyant exuberance, controlled politeness, even sexual self-awareness-- within the same show. Not many actresses can handle that range. But you can."

Tsukiko looked up from the paper, her expression unreadable for a beat. "I'm still filming 'The Shogun's Bodyguard.'"

"I checked the schedule," Arisa said confidently. "Your role in 'Shogun' is minor. It won't conflict. Shizuka's still doing the heavy lifting on that one, and the studio gave a wide filming window for your scenes. You'll be free when 'Yume' begins shooting. Sure, it will slow down your modeling work, but this will be worth it."

The casting sheet crinkled slightly as Tsukiko shifted it in her hands, reading over the descriptions again. The "inner selves" were abstract, but evocative-- archetypes more than characters. She could already picture how she might play each one. The possibilities were... thrilling. Perhaps even challenging.

Arisa continued, her tone quieter, more personal. "The industry sees you as graceful, reserved, and controlled, but I know what else you're capable of. This role would show them. You wouldn't just be playing a girl with secrets-- you'd be showing every angle of what it means to be human, exaggerated, surreal, and vulnerable. Shizuka saw these qualities in you and felt it was worth cultivating them, too."

Tsukiko folded the sheet once, then again, placing it gently into her bag. Her voice was soft. "I'll need time to prepare. This kind of role isn't just memorization."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Arisa said warmly. "The auditions are next week-- short vignettes for Yume's base personality and her inner selves. The director is looking for someone who can shift instantly without relying on makeup or costuming to do all the work."

Tsukiko rose to her feet, graceful as always. "Then I'll start practicing tonight."

Arisa's lips curled into a proud smile. "I'll forward you the audition prompt. And Tsukiko?"

Tsukiko paused in the doorway.

"Be bold. Show them what you can do."

There was a flicker of something rare-- maybe a smile, maybe a glint of excitement-- in Tsukiko's eyes.

"I will."

As the door shut behind the actress, Arisa leaned back in her chair and exhaled. Her intuition told her that her young talent would rise to the challenge presented her. Her intuition never let her down before, and she was certain the streak would continue. After all, she was an esper.

----

The waiting room at the casting office buzzed with quiet murmurs and subtle tension. A half-dozen young actresses sat scattered across the plain, plastic folding chairs, each holding a copy of the same casting sheet. Some practiced lines under their breath. Others scrolled on their phones or adjusted their makeup. Tsukiko Kisaragi, her long black hair swept neatly behind her shoulders, sat perfectly composed, the very picture of poise. She had already memorized the casting sheet. She wasn't nervous, but she was curious.

The name on the sheet, Yume Takahashi, stared up at her. It was a lead role-- a layered one that wasn't a typical high school girl role. It was a role that demanded elasticity and imagination: a quiet girl on the outside, but a storm of personas on the inside.

Tsukiko's name was called, breaking her train of thought. She stood, smoothed her skirt, and entered the audition room. Behind a long table sat three individuals, the most prominent of whom was a stylish woman in her forties with dyed auburn hair and narrow glasses. She introduced herself as the casting director and motioned for Tsukiko to stand at the mark.

"You're Tsukiko Kisaragi. I've heard good things," the casting director said, scanning her notes. "You have a refined presence-- graceful, measured. You remind me of the classic Yamato Nadeshiko."

Tsukiko offered a respectful bow, with a poise she learned from practicing kimono modeling. "Thank you. That's very kind of you to say."

The casting director smiled faintly. "Let's begin with Yume as she is-- her normal self. Page three."

Tsukiko took a breath and began the reading. Her voice was gentle, but clear, her posture elegant, but never stiff. She played Yume as a girl used to disappearing into the background-- socially aware, emotionally restrained, and entirely believable.

"Well done," the casting director said. "But this version of Yume... we've seen it from many girls today. Where the real test begins is with her inner selves. Let's move to Inner Self D."

Tsukiko's fingers tensed slightly around the page.

"Page seven. Sensuality, budding attraction, identity," the casting director said. "We're not asking for overt sexuality. Think awkward self-consciousness giving way to accidental confidence."

Tsukiko nodded, eyes scanning the lines, and then she began. Her voice took on a teasing lilt, her posture subtly shifting-- shoulders a little looser, hands brushing her skirt nervously. She delivered the lines with restrained coyness, gradually allowing the tone to build, as if the character wasn't quite sure how to feel about her own impulses.

The casting director scribbled something and moved quickly. "Let's jump to Inner Self C. The rebellious one."

That, Tsukiko knew, was the delinquent-- a completely different energy from the previous Inner Self. She imagined in her head that she was the classic 'sukeban' archetype; she set her jaw, her voice roughened slightly. She crossed her arms. Her tone carried fire and sarcasm as she slouched into the role, her body language rebelling against the room. She could almost hear the sound of gum popping in her head. She imagined Yume in a disheveled school uniform, skipping class and sneering at teachers.

The casting director cracked a smile. "Very different. Very promising. Now, Inner Self B."

Tsukiko glanced down at the lines. This one was all about validation and energy. She was the center of attention. To Tsukiko, this Inner Self reminded her of the role she 'inherited' from Shizuka, the airheaded cheerleader Yuna. She took a moment, then her voice shot up into a peppy, bubbly cadence. "Yume is here to SHINE~!" she announced in a breathy, exaggerated cheer. She mimed waving pom-poms. Her eyes widened dramatically, her entire being effervescent. She wasn't just animated-- she was over-the-top, deliberately so. A sparkle in the madness.

The room chuckled, but the casting director raised a hand. "Alright. Time for the hard one."

Tsukiko blinked. "Inner Self A?"

The air seemed to still. The casting director nodded.

"Yes. Vulnerability, helplessness... but not just that. Inner Self A represents Yume as a baby. Not metaphorically, but literally. Her deepest need for comfort and dependency is expressed as a child. For that scene, you would be portraying Yume like an infant. And you would be costumed accordingly."

Tsukiko froze. "You mean... dressed like a baby?"

The casting director met her gaze. "Yes. Diaper, bonnet, the whole thing. In scenes where her psyche breaks down, where she needs someone to hold her, this is the form the audience sees. It will be done with sensitivity, and we'll work closely with the actress we choose. But it's a non-negotiable part of the role. Are you... okay with that?"

Tsukiko was still for a long moment. Embarrassment crawled across the edges of her composure. Part of her wanted to politely decline, to thank them and step away. This wasn't dignified or elegant.

But she remembered Arisa's words: "Be bold. Show them what you can do."

And then she thought of Shizuka-- her mentor, her guide. The graceful, impeccable Shizuka Minazuki. Tsukiko had watched 
'Agent Zero', the spy parody where Shizuka, playing the sexy femme fatale Madame Black, had been slime and feathered, been turned into a human cake, and dunked in a vat of black oil for the sake of comedy.

[She endured all that-- and she made it work. It wasn't dignified by any means, or even something respectable, but she sold it and the fans loved her for it.]

Tsukiko inhaled. Her fingers relaxed. She knelt slightly, shrinking her body. Her voice became small, uncertain. Her thumb grazed her lower lip. She blinked slowly, lips pouting, then trembling. "M-Mama... where are you...?" she whispered, her voice high and trembling. She let her body slacken, just slightly-- eyes wide and confused. She sat on her knees, mimicking the posture of a toddler, her hands reaching out feebly as if seeking comfort.

The room was silent. The casting director slowly set down her pen.

"Thank you, Ms. Kisaragi. That was... very good. And brave."

Tsukiko slowly stood. Her face warmed, but she kept her expression neutral.

No one laughed.

She looked around, and knew the casting director was taking this seriously; the role of this Inner Self was not meant to be a joke or demeaning. Yet she could not quell the feeling of unease in her chest even after she was dismissed.

----

Later that day, after leaving the casting call, Tsukiko sat once again in the quiet, sunlit office of Arisa, the young agent who seemed to see through people as easily as a pane of glass. Tsukiko sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her graceful posture betraying a trace of unease.

"I wanted to talk about the Yume audition," she said, her voice calm but hesitant. "I... nearly walked away."

Arisa tilted her head slightly, the hint of a knowing smile brushing her lips. "Because of Inner Self A?"

Tsukiko nodded slowly. "I didn't expect... that. She was 'Baby Yume'." She hesitated again. "And not just acting like one. They said there would be a full costume. Diaper, pacifier, bonnet-- the works." Her ears flushed pink just from saying it aloud. She met Arisa's gaze, searching for judgment, but found only quiet curiosity.

"I did what they asked," Tsukiko continued. "I read for each part they gave me. Sensual for Inner Self D... Delinquent Yume-- I guessed that one... then bubbly and loud for Inner Self B. I tried to make her like a cheerleader, someone who demands attention. But when they got to Inner Self A, the air just... changed."

Arisa leaned back in her chair, hands steepled. "And that's when they told you?"

"Yes." Tsukiko folded her hands tighter. "They told me everything after the read: A is Baby Yume, B is Idol Yume, C is Delinquent Yume, D is Bunny Yume, and E-- the one I didn't have to read for-- is Maid Yume. The version of her that exists on the outside."

"Mm." Arisa tapped a manicured nail on the armrest. "They wouldn't have told you that unless they saw something in your performance."

"Maybe," Tsukiko said softly. "But if I'm cast, that means I'll have to wear all of those outfits. And play those characters. Not just act, but embody them, fully, in costume. And... I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with that."

She stared out the window for a moment, watching a pigeon waddle along the edge of a rooftop across the street.

"I kept thinking... would Shizuka do this?" Tsukiko's voice lowered. "She's always so poised and composed. But then I remembered-- she played Madame Black, didn't she? The one in that absurd spy parody? She was utterly humiliated in that role. But she did it with conviction, acting like nothing could faze her."

Arisa smiled gently. "You're right; she did. And you're thinking seriously about it-- that's good. Some actresses say yes to everything just to get their face on a poster, but you're still asking what the role means to you."

"I don't know if I *want* to do this," Tsukiko said, looking down. "Even if I could... I don't know if I *should*. It feels like I'd be putting myself somewhere very far from who I am."

"You wouldn't be Tsukiko *becoming* Baby Yume or Idol Yume," Arisa said calmly. "You'd be Tsukiko *performing* those roles. That's the difference between submission and mastery. And the fact that you're not jumping in without thinking tells me you're aware of the line. Just remember-- you don't have to say yes. And even if you do, you can still set boundaries."

Tsukiko looked up again, and for a moment, the anxiety in her gaze was tempered by resolve.

"I understand," she said quietly. "And thank you, Arisa. I think I needed someone to remind me that I still have a choice."

Arisa gave a small, satisfied nod. "You do. You always do. Take your time. They haven't offered you the part yet-- and if they do, you'll know whether to accept it when the time comes. Just... don't let fear stop you from discovering a new part of yourself. That's what Inner Selves are for, after all."

Tsukiko gave a small, heartfelt smile.

"I'll think about it," she said. "Seriously."

And with that, the conversation drew to a close-- gentle, unfinished, like a page waiting to be turned.

----

## No Big Deal

The first thing Tsukiko noticed when she stepped into Astra's apartment was the silence-- not awkward, just complete. The lights were dim, the living room was sparse. A folding chair set next to a folding table. A blanket thrown across the floor like a rug. A synthesizer stood like an altar in the corner, blinking patiently. An old CRT television sat on a cardboard box across from a pair of folding chairs, frozen mid-static on a channel Tsukiko couldn't identify. It all felt a little like a stage before rehearsal: waiting to be filled with meaning.

Astra herself sat curled up on one of the chairs, in an oversized sweatshirt and bike shorts, legs folded under her, staring at nothing in particular. She looked up only when Tsukiko slid off her shoes and stood at the edge of the room like a shadow trying to decide whether it belonged.

"I'm sorry for barging in," Tsukiko whisperered, stowing away the apartment keys Astra gave her to let herself inside. "And I'll probably talk too much. I just... didn't know who else to ask."

Astra nodded once, her gaze unreadable, but welcoming.

Tsukiko stepped forward and sat on the folding chair next to Astra, clasping her hands in her lap. "It's about this audition. 'Yume's Inner World.' I went in for it, thinking it was just a psychological role. Complex and emotional, and all that. I thought it would be subtle, but..."

Tsukiko paused, looking down, choosing her words carefully.

"...Yume is a girl with multiple inner selves. Personas. And they're all exaggerated. Childlike, idealized, repressed. And each one has a costume. A *very* distinct costume."

Astra tilted her head slightly.

"There's Baby Yume," Tsukiko elaborated, "in full baby wear-- bonnet, pacifier, even a... diaper. Idol Yume, frilly, sparkly, super loud. Delinquent Yume, which I actually liked-- tough girl with a big heart. Then Bunny Girl Yume. And the outer self is Maid Yume, which I didn't need to read for because she's already the version that appears on the surface."

Astra's brows lifted a millimeter. She didn't interrupt.

"I haven't been offered the role," Tsukiko said, trying to sound casual. "But I might be. And I'm scared. Not of the acting, not even of the challenge. I'm scared of *wearing those costumes.* Of being seen like that. By *everyone.*"

Astra leaned back and waited.

"My parents already hated my role in 'Chaotic Love!'," Tsukiko said bitterly. "They called it 'buffoonery.' And when I kissed Seira Ichijo in 'When We Were Together', my mother didn't talk to me for a week. If I show up on national television dressed as a baby... I'll be in *so* much trouble."

Astra nodded slowly. "What's so bad about wearing the costumes?"

Tsukiko blinked. "I just told you--"

"No," Astra said, calm but insistent. "You told me what *they'd* think. But what do *you* think? As an actress."

Tsukiko exhaled sharply, shoulders tensing. "It's embarrassing! Can *you* imagine being dressed as a baby? In a diaper? And it's *you*, Astra. You. On screen." She pointed to the television for emphasis.

Astra didn't flinch. Instead, she unlocked her phone and began scrolling.

"...What are you doing?" Tsukiko asked, suspicious.

"Checking something," Astra said softly.

A moment later, she turned the phone around and showed Tsukiko a listing. It was a specialty shop. The screen showed adult-sized baby wear.

Tsukiko blanched. "You're joking."

Astra looked at her with that same calm. "If I put one on... would you?"

"You're *seriously* considering this?" Tsukiko stared, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

Astra nodded. "You came here because you didn't want to be judged. And I won't. But maybe if you see me do it first, it won't be scary anymore. It's just a costume. No big deal."

Tsukiko stared at her friend-- enigmatic, difficult, kind-hearted Astra-- and finally understood. She wasn't mocking her. She wasn't pushing her for shock. She was trying to *normalize it*, to take away the power of fear. To help her walk across a threshold she hesitantly approached.

"...Okay," Tsukiko said, voice barely audible. "Fine. If you do it... I will, too. But just here. Just between us."

Astra gave the faintest smile. "Deal."

And without ceremony, she tapped the order button.

----

Tsukiko stood in front of Astra's apartment door for a good twenty seconds before knocking. The crisp late morning air had carried her here like a passenger, rather than a decision. Her thumb brushed the edge of her phone, still glowing faintly from the message Arisa had sent that morning:

"You didn't hear it from me... but you're the only one being considered for Yume. Don't breathe a word. Seriously."

Tsukiko hadn't replied; she couldn't. The weight of those words had wrapped around her like wire. It wasn't joy, nor relief. Most of it was simply pressure... but more than likely it was overwhelming fear.

The door opened. Astra looked exactly the same as always-- tired eyes under jagged bangs, hoodie draped loosely over her frame. 

"You're early," she said.

Tsukiko stepped in quietly. "I couldn't sit still. Let's get this over with, okay?"

Astra nodded once, stepping aside. The apartment still smelled faintly of instant coffee and solder. The open delivery box sat in the center of the room like an altar.

"They came earlier this morning," Astra said, kneeling beside it. Her fingers moved through the contents: soft pastel onesies, oversized bibs with cartoon ducks, bonnets, rattles, and... diapers. There were two full sets.

Astra didn't make eye contact; she didn't need to. They both knew what they had talked about-- what Tsukiko had *agreed* to do, as part of the plan.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Tsukiko muttered, crouching and lifting the costume meant for her. The fabric was buttery soft, embarrassingly frilly. It crinkled in her hands. "I've been training for months to become a kimono model, Astra... and now I'm dressing as a baby. This is crazy! My parents would never let me hear the end of it!"

"We're both crazy," Astra said, so flatly it was unclear if she was serious or joking.

They separated-- Astra disappearing into her bedroom, Tsukiko clutching the costume like it might flee, locking herself in the apartment's small bathroom.

The light was cold and harsh above the mirror. Tsukiko's reflection stared back, blinking, half-defiant, half-defeated.

[This is humiliating.]

She held up the diaper. [This is the most embarrassing thing I've ever done in my life.]

And yet, in the other room, Astra was changing, too. That gave her courage. Tsukiko wasn't sure when Astra became someone she wanted to impress, but lately... she didn't want to disappoint her.

[You're in the running. The ONLY one.]

She could hear Arisa's words, like a devil on her shoulder. [This is your shot. Don't mess it up.]

Her hands moved slowly, methodically. She changed. She hated how natural it felt to obey the absurd ritual, hated how her reflection now looked less like herself and more like someone she'd pity. She adjusted the bonnet, but she didn't cry.

When she emerged, Tsukiko expected to find Astra equally ridiculous and equally dressed.

Instead, Astra was sitting on her usual folding chair, unchanged.

"What the hell?" Tsukiko asked, her face heating instantly. "You didn't change?!"

Astra looked up at her. Her voice was quiet, but there was an unmistakable shame in her eyes. "I couldn't do it."

"You said we'd do it *together*," Tsukiko said. "You made this whole plan!"

"I know," Astra said. "I chickened out."

Tsukiko was too stunned to speak. She felt ridiculous-- standing there in a pastel one-piece with ruffles, her dignity abandoned. Her fists clenched. "You *tricked* me."

"I did," Astra said. "But not to hurt you."

Tsukiko stared.

"I thought if you could put it on here, with no cameras, no crew-- just you and me-- you could put it on for real. You're the one who has to carry this. Not me."

Tsukiko sank onto the other folding chair, her legs trembling.

"You did it," Astra said, finally reaching out and placing a hand on Tsukiko's shoulder. "Even when I couldn't. That's how I know you can play Yume."

For a moment, Tsukiko couldn't decide if she wanted to scream, or cry, or just laugh at how utterly crazy this was. She knew Astra meant well, that she was genuinely trying to help, but it seemed that even Astra had her limits, and now it was clear Tsukiko could do something Astra could not.

"I still think you tricked me," Tsukiko muttered.

Astra merely nodded slowly, in her usual, cryptic manner.

Tsukiko exhaled, long and slow. "But you're right. I can wear this. If I can sit here like this, in front of you, I can survive a set."

Astra tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable.

Tsukiko looked down at herself, then smirked bitterly. "This better not be what the real costume looks like."

"I doubt it," Astra said. "It'll probably have more sparkle."

Tsukiko rolled her eyes, then hesitated. Her voice softened. "Astra. I didn't tell you the best part."

Astra raised an eyebrow.

"I'm probably getting cast. Arisa said so-- off the record. I'm not allowed to tell anyone, but..."

"You just told me."

Tsukiko looked away, sheepish. "Yeah. I guess I wanted to say it out-loud... to someone who understands."

Astra nodded, then gave a small, rare smile. "Then maybe it's time to practice."

Tsukiko blinked. "Practice? You mean... like, *in this*?"

"You're already in costume," Astra said, with a shrug. "Might as well."

Tsukiko sighed. "You're the worst."

"You'll do fine," Astra said.

There was no laughter, nor teasing. Just quiet belief. Now that she knew she had Astra in her corner, no matter what, Tsukiko knew she could take the role of Yume and give it the effort and care the reole deserved.

----

## Costume Test

Tsukiko Kisaragi stepped through the doorway marked "Yume's Inner World: Wardrobe Fitting", her expression composed, but her heart beating faster than she let on. The dressing wing of the production studio was quiet, but full of activity. Today would be her first time trying on the Inner Selves' costumes-- each one a piece of Yume's fractured psyche.

It was no longer an audition; Arisa had taken the lead in negotiations with the studio, and after long, respectful discussions, Tsukiko had accepted the role. Adjustments were made, especially to the more controversial costume designs. Her biggest concern-- the Baby Yume persona-- had been addressed directly: the original idea of a diaper was scrapped entirely in favor of oversized, ruffled bloomers. As Arisa had explained with a note of smug satisfaction, "They were never really going to go that far, Tsukiko. But now it's written into the costume guidelines-- so there's no ambiguity."

The wardrobe assistant gave her a gentle smile and gestured to a row of costumes, each hung neatly and labeled: *Delinquent*, *Maid*, *Idol*, *Bunny*, and *Baby*. Each was absurd in its own right, exaggerated and theatrical. But now that Tsukiko had seen the final revisions, they didn't feel demeaning-- they felt like a challenge; a mirror of Yume's inner world.

Tsukiko began with the base-- the most "normal" version of Yume. The wardrobe assistant handed her the school uniform carefully preserved in a garment bag: a crisp white blouse, grey pleated skirt cut just above the knees, a navy blazer with Sunshine Academy's crest stitched in gold thread, white knee socks, and polished dress shoes. A red ribbon waited to be tied into a bow at the collar.

Changing into it felt familiar, almost nostalgic. Though Tsukiko hadn't worn her own school uniform in years, it wasn't the first time she put on the Sunshine Academy unform for her job; she wore the same uniform on her previous TV Drama roles. The posture it encouraged-- the straightened back, the composed manner-- came naturally. She stepped in front of the mirror, and the character of Yume began to take shape in her mind.

[This is her on the outside,] she thought. [The person everyone sees-- the quiet, polite girl who never causes trouble. But behind the uniform, there's a war going on.]

She took a slow breath, brushed her bangs from her face, and narrowed her eyes slightly. Even in the standard uniform, Yume wasn't a blank slate-- she was a mask of restraint, concealing the chaos beneath. Tsukiko made a mental note of the stiffness in the blazer's shoulders, the hemline that tugged at modesty. Even this costume said something.

After slipping out of the uniform, she moved on to *Maid Yume*. The costume was immaculate: a black dress with a tightly fitted bodice, puffed short sleeves, a flared mid-thigh skirt with layered white lace at the hem, and an apron that tied neatly in the back. Matching white frilled stockings came up to just above the knee, secured with invisible garters. On the table sat a delicate maid headband and black Mary Jane shoes polished to a shine.

Tsukiko stepped into the outfit, letting the wardrobe assistant adjust the bow at the back and smooth the fabric over her shoulders. When she turned to face the mirror, she was surprised by how... *natural* it looked.

[Maid Yume is her shield,] she realized. [Composed, courteous, helpful-- everything she thinks people want her to be. But it's a performance, too.]

She adjusted the headband carefully and practiced a small bow in the mirror. There was a dignity to it-- a kind of grace in submission, not weakness.

"Okay," Tsukiko murmured. "That's two more sides of her."

With the base identity and the maid persona internalized, Tsukiko took a breath and turned toward the more outlandish costumes ahead. She started with the *Delinquent Yume* look-- a long, pleated skirt brushing her ankles, blazer loose over her shoulders, a mock bandage across one cheek. She slipped into character instinctively: slouched posture, a narrow scowl, chin raised in challenge. Looking in the mirror, she could already feel the scene: Yume rebelling against rules she doesn't even understand, her fury laced with confusion and fear.

*Idol Yume* was next. Tsukiko had previously done commercials in similar outfits, but this was deliberately gaudy-- mismatched ribbons, sparkly pastel puff skirt, and sequined bodice with an opening to show off her navel. She took a deep breath before looking in the mirror... and surprised herself by smiling. The absurdity was disarming, but not humiliating. It captured something honest about Yume's hunger to be seen-- Tsukiko stood a little taller, struck a playful pose, and imagined flashing lights and cheering fans. It wasn't the cheerleader she imagined during the audition, but it required the same kind of energy.

"I can do this," she said under her breath.

Then came *Bunny Girl Yume*. After the negotiations, this was the costume that gave her the most hesitation, but the final look was far more elegant than she'd feared-- a sleeveless tuxedo-cut top over a leotard in soft lavender, sheer black tights, and understated heels. The bunny ears perched delicately on her head rather than looming cartoonishly. It was not the Playboy Bunny outfit she imagined it to be, but it kept the silhouette that mattered.

"It's a stage costume," she decided. She turned slightly and caught her reflection again-- sleek, a little mischievous, and even a touch powerful.

Finally, the assistant helped her into the *Baby Yume* ensemble. It was an oversized pastel dress with a puffed silhouette, gently ruffled bloomers, white ankle socks, and soft booties. The frilly bib said "I Tried My Best" in sparkly letters; Tsukiko knew the message was intended to change depending on the scene. A normal, plastic pacifier hung from a necklace, something which was either being used as an accessory, or could potentially be placed in her mouth if the situation called for it. Tsukiko looked at herself for a long time. It felt strange-- there was something vulnerable in it, a childlike fear of being left alone, of failing when others were counting on you. She ultimately decided it was the materials that made up the costume-- it felt more comfortable than Tsukiko wanted to admit, almost adding to the feeling that Yume was deliberately recalling a time when she felt protected and nurtured. It was not nearly as humiliating as she thought, but she was nevertheless embarrassed.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the footsteps she heard behind her.

"Ms. Kisaragi," came a voice. The auburn-haired casting director who she met from the audition stepped into view. "I wanted to ask-- how do you feel in that one?"

Tsukiko hesitated for a beat, then met his eyes in the mirror.

"A little weird," she admitted, lips curling faintly. "But it's... not as bad as I thought it would be. I know what it's trying to say. It's not really about the costume. It's about Yume."

The casting director let out a visible breath of relief. "I'm glad. To be honest, we toned it down from the start-- there were concerns internally about how far we could go before the metaphor got lost. But during auditions, I pushed all of you. Played it hard. I needed to see who could embody each part of Yume without flinching." She smiled. "You were the only one who passed the test."

Tsukiko turned to her, bonnet slightly crooked, cheeks warm. "Thank you for trusting me."

"No," she replied. "Thank you for trusting *us*. We're not making a parody. We're showing something serious, through surreal forms. And with you as Yume, I think we can actually pull that off."

Tsukiko nodded. "I'll give it everything I've got."

----

The sun was still rising when Tsukiko stepped onto the familiar grounds of Sunshine Academy.

She had never attended the prestigious school herself, but the gleaming white corridors and symmetrical rows of trees in the courtyard were etched into her memory. Months ago, she had filmed 'When We Were Together' here-- a wistful, quiet love story where she played a melancholic second lead. Back then, she was still cutting her teeth as an actress, relying on her co-star, Seira, to bounce off of. Now, she was the unquestioned lead, and this time, the story was stranger.

She adjusted the red bow at her collar, glancing down at the Sunshine Academy school uniform. The grey pleated skirt, navy blazer, and pristine white blouse fit her snugly, almost too neatly. It was a familiar look-- one she had worn for other roles and one that Tokyo audiences had grown used to seeing on-screen. Sunshine Academy had long since embraced its second identity as a television backdrop. For producers, it meant convenience and aesthetics. For the students, it meant getting paid as extras and possibly exposure and acting experience. For the school, the arrangement offered another revenue stream for Sunshine Academy's programs. For Tsukiko, it meant walking into fiction draped in just enough reality to be convincing. 

Her character, Yume, was supposed to blend in. This "school version" of Yume, as the director called it, wasn't loud or dramatic; she was polite, quiet, compliant-- a model student. Her posture was always upright, her tone, level. Her face, neutral.

But beneath the uniform, Yume's Inner World writhed with chaos. *And that* was what this series was truly about.

For now, though, Tsukiko's job was to hold that in. To convey just enough tension to hint that something wasn't right-- without ever breaking the surface.

She waited at the edge of the classroom set while lighting adjusted their panels. The air was cool inside the real classroom, but the heat from the equipment would soon build up. Students-- background extras in matching uniforms-- sat in rows as the assistant director whispered instructions to the camera crew.

The director, a mild-mannered man with sharp eyes, stepped up to her. "Kisaragi, remember-- this scene is about the mask. Yume's inner self doesn't surface yet, but we need the moment *just before* the crack."

"I understand," she nodded. "It's not about showing emotion-- it's about almost showing it."

The director smiled. "That's right. It's restraint. That's where the audience starts to feel unsettled."

The scene was simple on paper: Yume sat in class while the teacher droned on about mathematics. She is surrounded by chatter, youth, movement-- but she seemed a few degrees removed from all of it. And then, mid-lecture, a quiet panic began to rise in her chest-- a pop quiz was announced, one she isn't prepared for. She clutched her pencil harder. Her body doesn't move. Her expression doesn't change, but her breathing became shallow.

That is where the episode would cut to the Inner World-- and the sudden, shocking emergence of Baby Yume.

Tsukiko took her seat. The classroom was bathed in bright, warm lighting. Behind her, a prop window framed a false but convincing view of a school courtyard. The bell rang. Cameras rolled.

She kept her gaze forward, not blinking too much. Her hands folded neatly atop her textbook. She listened to the actor playing the teacher-- a veteran actor brought in for presence-- as he scribbled on the chalkboard.

The tension began with her eyes. She let her gaze drift-- just slightly-- off the edge of the teacher's jacket. Then her fingers twitched. A half-second pause in breath. The pencil tilted.

Her lips tightened, imperceptibly. And then--

She let her shoulders go rigid, and a phantom weight seemed to crush her spine. Her head lowered a centimeter too far. Her hands, once prim and composed, now gripped her skirt beneath the desk. The air felt too thick. The words on the board became symbols. Nothing made sense. She wasn't going to cry. Yume never cried-- at least, not in public. But her breath-- shallow, quiet, desperate-- was the silent scream of someone who no longer knew how to ask for help.

"Cut!" the director called.

The tension evaporated. Tsukiko exhaled slowly, not realizing until now that her own throat had gone tight. The room filled with casual conversation again as the crew reset for another take. But the director approached with a quiet satisfaction in his voice.

"That was exactly it. The panic without the breakdown. The surface barely disturbed, but underneath-- fraying."

Tsukiko nodded. "It's eerie... to act like you're holding everything together when you know you're not."

"And soon," he said, lowering his voice as he glanced toward the soundstage model on the monitor, "we'll show the audience exactly how she sees herself on the inside."

Later, they would film the corresponding Inner World segment: Baby Yume, in her oversized pastel dress and frilly bloomers, lost in a cavernous nursery of warped proportions. It would be surreal, even unsettling-- deliberately so. A childish fantasy turned coping mechanism. A plea for care and safety masked in absurd imagery.

But for now, Tsukiko returned to her desk and straightened her posture. The mask was back on. The cracks would return later.

And *that* was the rhythm of 'Yume's Inner World'. A surface world so perfectly ordinary... that it dared the audience to look closer.

----

The soundstage lights dimmed to a low, surreal hue as Tsukiko stepped onto the oversized, pastel-colored set, her booties making her feel silly, with the eyes of the crew upon her. Plush building blocks the size of refrigerators surrounded her. A giant rocking horse loomed in the background. The crib, lacquered in pearlescent white and pinks, stood absurdly massive-- as if built for a child twenty feet tall. The carpet was marshmallow-soft beneath her feet, and artificial sunlight glowed through translucent curtains that led nowhere. It was dreamlike. It was ridiculous.

And it was exactly how Baby Yume's Inner World was meant to feel.

Tsukiko glanced down at herself. She wore the full Baby Yume ensemble: an exaggerated frilly pink dress with short puffed sleeves and a ruffled collar that flounced with every movement. The hem bobbed just over her thighs, revealing the intentionally oversized white bloomers with embroidered hearts and tiny satin bows. Her hair was tied up in twin pigtails, each one curled and adorned with pink ribbons. The look was absurd-- by design.

She was certain her parents would disapprove of this, just like her other big television roles. Tsukiko made a mental note to stay clear of her parents' house for the duration of filming. Or, perhaps, even a few more months afterward as well. Or maybe the rest of her life.

The costumer, still on hand for touch-ups, fluffed the fabric behind her one last time. "You look adorable, Tsukiko-chan," she said softly, then quickly corrected, "I mean-- Yume-chan."

Tsukiko gave a modest nod, not smiling. The costume was comfortable enough-- more so than she feared during the concept phase. The costume department made sure to make it out of materials baby clothes were made of, and Tsukiko felt warm and protected enough that she had to admit she could sleep in them, but now, standing inside this twisted, infantilized fantasy of vulnerability, she had to *act*.

She had already filmed the Maid Yume segments earlier that week-- clean, restrained, forgettable. Maid Yume was calm, tidy, and composed. But she was also flat-- a mask of manners, barely distinct from the version of Yume seen in the "real world." Tsukiko had found it almost mechanical to play, a choreographed politeness that didn't challenge her. But Baby Yume was something else-- something where she could flex her acting chops, even if was in an embarrassing costume.

She stood quietly as the director gave her space; he knew she needed it. This scene wasn't just weird-- it was ripe for raw emotions. And Tsukiko was going to have to tap into something deeper than technique.

[How does someone portray a high school girl's mental break... as a baby?] she thought.

She walked slowly to the center of the room. On cue, the soft mood music would begin-- an eerie lullaby arranged in minor key-- and the lighting would change, casting long nursery shadows across her relatively tiny body. She sat down with care beside a giant plush bear and looked at her reflection in a mirror that had been made deliberately warped.

Yume, in the classroom, had been frozen. Unable to move. Afraid to show anything.

But Baby Yume wasn't afraid to show it. She was the helplessness made manifest, and she was consumed by fear.

Tsukiko lowered herself to the ground, resting against the plush bear. She closed her eyes.

[If I were Yume... and I were this terrified... what would I want?]

Her arms wrapped loosely around her knees. [Safety,] she thought. [Someone to hold me. Someone to tell me I don't have to be perfect.]

The costume was absurd. But the emotion was real.

When the director called action, the atmospheric lullaby music began-- haunting and sweet. Tsukiko opened her eyes slowly, blinking as if she were awakening in a dream. Her lip quivered. Her voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper.

"I don't want to be good right now..."

She clutched the bear tighter, like a child who couldn't understand the world's expectations. Her face twisted-- not into a full sob, but the beginning of one. Her hands trembled, and her feet curled inward.

"I just want to be held... like I used to be..."

Tears welled in her eyes. Not melodramatic ones-- no streaming trails. Just the quiet mist of a soul not given permission to cry.

The camera tracked slowly around her as she rocked herself lightly, the infantile dress rustling with each motion. Tsukiko allowed her face to lose all adult tension. She gave in to the image of Yume hiding inside her own mind, curled into something smaller, something pre-verbal, where emotions didn't need names.

"I can't be good all the time..."

Her voice cracked. The lines had been improvised-- it wasn't in the script. But no one stopped her.

She sat like that for a full minute, trembling in silence.

"Cut," the director finally said, barely above a whisper.

No one moved right away.

"That was incredible, Kisaragi," the director said after a beat. "I just want to say-- you brought something to this character I didn't know you had in you."

Tsukiko wiped her cheek with the back of her hand and gave a quiet laugh. "It *is* weird. I won't lie. But I understood her."

The director nodded. "You're not just playing Yume. You *are* Yume."

Tsukiko stood slowly, smoothing the frills of her dress. Inside, she felt a new kind of confidence-- as someone who could bridge absurdity and truth. Baby Yume wasn't a punchline; she was a cry for help dressed in layers of lace, and Tsukiko was going to make sure to give her the gravitas she deserved.

----

## A Different Flavor of the Inner World

The lights overhead warmed the padded floor of the absurdly colorful Inner World nursery set. A towering pastel high chair dominated the scene. The tray in front was dotted with little dishes of vivid "baby food"-- not actual pureed peas, of course, but a carefully prepared blend of matcha yogurt, mashed kabocha, and colored rice porridge, all chosen for visual effect, edibility, and easy cleaning. The wardrobe department had even done a pre-test on the bib to make sure everything was machine washable.

Tsukiko sat in the oversized chair, fully costumed as Baby Yume: bloomers puffed comically outward, frilly dress gathered like a cupcake wrapper, an oversized pink bib embroidered with "YUME-CHAN <3", and a lace-trimmed pacifier prop dangling on a ribbon from her collar. Her expression was one of calm focus-- even as she looked undeniably ridiculous.

[I can't believe this is my job today,] she thought to herself, straight-faced. [Mom and Dad would surely be proud...]

From behind the camera, the director grinned. "Okay, Kisaragi, on this take, she's *really* flustered. She's trying to hold it together at lunch, but inside-- BAM! Food explosion. You're frustrated, overwhelmed, and your motor skills are terrible because you're a baby. It's where the 'emotional mess' meets 'visual gag.' Got it?"

Tsukiko nodded. "One emotional breakdown, served messy. Understood."

A crewmember prepped a spoon with a healthy dollop of the orange kabocha puree and handed it to her. Another stood by just offscreen, holding a second spoon on standby for the 'splat' moment.

The camera rolled.

Tsukiko raised the spoon toward her mouth, shaking it dramatically with both hands like it was way too heavy. "Mmmf..." she whimpered in a high, fake-baby voice, lip trembling. She missed her mouth by a wide margin. A splat of orange landed squarely on her chin and bib.

"Cut!" the director said, grinning. "Good splatter. Reset for the double-splat."

On the next take, the second spoon of food came flying in from offscreen with comedic timing, landing squarely on Tsukiko's forehead and trailing a streak of green down her nose. The director howled with laughter.

"I like that! That one's going in."

Tsukiko blinked, deadpan under the mess, then tilted her head like a baby who had just been scolded. Her commitment was absolute.

When the director called "Cut" again, the crew moved in quickly with warm towels. Tsukiko laughed softly as she wiped the worst of the goo from her face.

"Okay, so I'm humiliated in ten different dimensions," she joked. "But it'll be a good laugh on-screen."

The director clapped his hands. "You're a real pro, Kisaragi. Next up is Delinquent Yume-- Stage C. We've got the alleyway set pre-lit and ready. You're gonna love this one."

Tsukiko raised a brow. "Tough guy time, huh?"

"Yep. You get to glare, posture, and mutter nonsense under your breath about how you're 'too cool for homework.'"

"About time one of these personalities got to wear the pants," she said dryly.

One of the stylists helped her off the high chair. As she walked toward the changing room, still dotted with orange and green, Tsukiko chuckled under her breath. Each personality was a different flavor of absurdity, but she was starting to enjoy the challenge.

----

Tsukiko stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of Yume's Delinquent persona. Though the outfit echoed the standard Sunshine Academy uniform-- same white blouse, same red bow-- there was a stark difference in tone.

This Yume didn't wear a pleated, mid-thigh skirt like the other students; Delinquent Yume had a sweeping ankle-length skirt, an intentional nod to the 'sukeban' image of past rebellious schoolgirls. Her sleeves were rolled up just enough to hint at attitude. Her blazer hung open over her shoulders like a cape. A fake bandage was taped diagonally across her cheek, and her usually neat hair was disheveled just right, like she had just stomped away from a rooftop argument. The only thing missing was the surgical mask, but production deemed it necessary to see her face.

And Tsukiko loved it.

She narrowed her eyes at her reflection and tilted her head, crossing her arms. A smirk formed naturally on her lips.

"Heh... what're you lookin' at? You wanna get graded?"

She chuckled. "My, this is fun."

Unlike the prim and composed Maid Yume or the vulnerable absurdity of Baby Yume, Delinquent Yume had edge-- and Tsukiko, who was usually quiet and composed in real life, found something oddly empowering in the role. Maybe *this* was the version of Yume who wanted to be: honest, assertive, and unapologetic.

She headed to the set: an alleyway with graffiti-painted walls, stacks of fake crates, and a bent-up vending machine prop with suspicious dents in it. It was clear this part of the Inner World was where Yume went when she didn't want to be polite anymore.

In the first shot, Delinquent Yume confronted an imaginary authority figure-- standing up for herself after being cornered in her mind. Tsukiko delivered her lines with a raspy confidence, eyes narrowed and voice lowered.

"You think you know what's best for me just 'cause you wear a tie? Get real. I ain't lettin' anyone tell me who I'm supposed to be."

She ended the monologue by punching a stack of boxes that were rigged to topple safely-- executed perfectly, and the director grinned behind the monitor.

"Yes! That's the energy. Kisaragi, you're doing great today."

She nodded coolly, letting the confidence settle on her like armor. There were a few more 'serious' takes-- quiet rebellion, guarded honesty, fierce independence. She kept the emotional weight behind her eyes, letting it glimmer just beneath the tough façade.

And then the tone shifted.

"Alright!" the assistant director called out. "Next up we're doing the lighter gag. This is the last Delinquent Yume scene for the episode."

The crew set up a smaller shot-- a rooftop corner under a dusky purple backdrop, complete with plastic fencing and dramatic city skyline props.

Tsukiko leaned against a fake air conditioning unit as they prepped her with a fake cigarette box prop. The gag was that Delinquent Yume, trying to act like a rebellious badass, would fail to ignite the lighter and flail in frustration.

They handed her a prop lighter-- safety-checked and modified to emit just a flicker of light, if it lit up at all.

"Alright, Kisaragi, big attitude, but... then it fizzles out."

She took a deep breath, reset her stance, and nodded. She got into position and prepared for what she hoped would be a humorous scene.

"Tch... Life's a joke. Nothin' ever goes my way. Might as well light one and watch it burn..."

She opened the cigarette box dramatically, pulled out the cigarette, placed it in her mouth, and struck the lighter.

Flick. Nothing.

Flick flick. Nothing again.

Her eyes twitched. She glanced at the cigarette, then at the lighter.

"...You serious?"

She tried again. The lighter let out a weak sputter, then died with a puff of smoke. Delinquent Yume stared in disbelief, then broke into an exaggerated scowl, stomping her foot like a child.

"Piece o' junk!"

She flung the lighter behind her and stomped, grumbling in parody of herself. In post-production, the ligther would unexpectedly 'explode' in a comically absurd, if simple, stock effect.

"CUT!" the director laughed. "That was perfect comedy timing."

Tsukiko smirked and gave a mock bow.

"Glad to know I can act tough *and* look ridiculous in the same costume."

She made her way off the set, letting the coat drape over her shoulders like a cape once more. There were more Inner Selves to tackle, but Delinquent Yume was already becoming her favorite.

----

The sequins sparkled blindingly under the overhead lights on the sound stage decorated as a concert stage, one inspired by J-pop idol performances, but with a surreal, dream-like take. Tsukiko stood center stage in a pastel pink and lavender costume that looked like it had been cut straight from a real J-pop music video. Puffy sleeves, layered skirt, sparkly heart-shaped brooch, thigh-high stockings with matching bows, baring her midriff-- it was Idol Yume, exactly as the character imagined herself: adored, flawless, and most importantly, *seen*.

Tiny stars were painted near the corners of her eyes. Her black hair, normally straight and subdued, had been teased into airy curls with twin pigtails bouncing behind her. She adjusted the little silver headset mic and took a breath.

The stage lights dimmed slightly.

"Playback in 3, 2--"

The music hit: a bright, synth-heavy opening with a sugary beat. It was the kind of song where the lyrics were about chasing dreams or standing in the spotlight-- Idol Yume's fantasy of being loved by everyone. Tsukiko moved to the beat, arms flaring with purpose, feet tapping through carefully choreographed-- but deliberately simple-- steps. It was nothing too complex; she wasn't expected to be a *real* idol-- just convincing enough to sell Yume's over-the-top fantasy.

"Twinkle bright! I'm shining through the sky~
Even if I stumble, I still fly~
Notice me, see me, this is who I am!
I'm your star-- Yume-chan!"

She spun into the final pose, fingers forming a heart over her chest, one eye winked shut. The music hit its end cue and lights dimmed just slightly.

The director clapped. "Alright! Clean take. We'll dub the vocals later-- good energy, Kisaragi."

She bowed lightly, smiling. Despite herself, she had *fun* with that routine. Idol Yume wasn't subtle; she *demanded* attention in ways Yume never could in real life. But on this sound stage, in this shiny, frilly costume, Tsukiko got to live out that fantasy-- just for a minute and a half.

After several more takes for safety, the assistant director grinned.

"Alright, let's reset for the pratfall."

She blinked. "The what?"

"Final beat of the scene-- Yume does a spin, trips, and tumbles off the stage. Gag shot. Onto the mats-- we've padded them."

"Oh, *that*," she muttered, recalling the storyboard. "Right. Idol Yume wants attention. Even when she's falling."

She returned to her mark. At the cue, she struck her final pose, did the prescribed half-spin... and exaggeratedly stumbled forward off the edge of the stage with a loud, theatrical "WAAHH!"

*THUMP.*

A brief pause, then: "Cut! Reset please!"

Tsukiko climbed back up, brushing off the skirt. "Again?" she asked, a little amused.

"Yup. Just one more."

She performed another dramatic twirl, then flung herself forward with an even more absurd flail of arms.

**THUMP.**

"Cut! Let's get it again!"

The crew was definitely snickering this time. Tsukiko narrowed her eyes.

"...You're pranking me, aren't you?"

"Maybe," the director said, smiling like a cat. "But we're still rolling."

Tsukiko sighed, grinned, and went back to her mark.

Next take, she added an Olympic-level dive to her fall. After that, she did a slow motion tumble, ending in a dramatic faint. One take she yelled "I REGRET NOTHING!" on her way down. On another, she tripped *before* the spin, just to mix it up. The crew was openly laughing now, one camera op needing to step away to keep from shaking the shot.

"Alright," the director finally called, wiping a tear from his eye. "We *got* it. I don't know which one we're using, but... we got it."

Tsukiko, sprawled on the mat in a sea of ruffles and glitter, gave a thumbs-up from the floor.

"Glad to know my descent into humiliation is now professionally documented." She laughed, rolling to sit upright. She knew the crew was pulling her leg on the extra takes, but she hoped the audience could take her spills in good humor, too.

----

Tsukiko tugged the soft satin ribbon into place on the collar of her Bunny Girl Yume ensemble. Her reflection in the dressing room mirror blinked back at her with wide, dolled-up eyes and an almost cartoonishly sultry smile.

Fluffy bunny ears-- check.
Black satin bustier-- check.
Sheer tights-- check.
Ridiculous high heels that made walking feel like a high-wire act-- also, regrettably, check.

She stood, stretched, and then struck a cheesy "wink-and-gun" pose at herself in the mirror.

"Hey there, senpai~!" she said aloud in a purring voice, then immediately broke into a quiet chuckle. "Yume... you really *don't* know how flirting works, huh?"

The set was decorated as hazy pastel-hued fantasy classroom with soft lighting, romantic sparkles in the air, and a lens filter that screamed "shoujo manga daydream." She adjusted her bowtie, waiting at her mark for the signal to enter the classroom.

Cameras rolled.

Tsukiko, now Bunny Girl Yume, sauntered into the dreamlike version of the Sunshine Academy classroom-- except this one had heart-shaped windows and a mysteriously romantic spotlight following her every move. It was, like the other Inner World sets, built on a sound stage, and there was nothing outside those windows, nor was there a real hallway. This allowed the production to do whatever was required for filming these scenes, and ensured that no property damage would occur at Sunshine Academy itself.

She perched on a desk with exaggerated elegance, one leg crossing over the other, hips tilted at just the right angle to strike the "sultry temptress" pose. Her target was an imaginary "crush" student sitting at the desk in front of her, played by a stand-in crew member holding a textbook upside down, trying not to laugh.

"Okaay~," Tsukiko said in her Bunny Girl Yume voice, breathy and drawn out, "It looks like someone forgot to do their homework... Want me to *punish* you?"

She fluttered her lashes, reaching out to run a finger down his shoulder with the kind of melodramatic seductiveness usually reserved for low-budget anime villainesses.

The stand-in looked up with fake surprise, then-- 

*SPLAT.*

A banana cream pie landed directly into Tsukiko's face from stage right, just out of the camera's field of view. Cream splattered everywhere. Her bunny ears tilted. She blinked slowly, lips puckering like a fish in confusion, the cream sliding down her cheeks and chin.

The crew burst out laughing.

Tsukiko froze in her pose for two full seconds before carefully licking a bit of pie from the corner of her mouth.

"Mmm. Banana."

The director shouted through chuckles, "Still rolling-- reset for another take, same timing!"

They handed Tsukiko a towel while a crew member cleaned up the set. She wiped her face, dabbed off the stray cream, and gave a playfully, irritated sigh.

"Yume might need to learn flirting from *literally anyone else*," she muttered, still smirking.

The setup for the next take was the same, but this time Tsukiko leaned even harder into the ridiculousness. She deepened her voice, gave an *even more over-the-top* wink, and twirled a strand of her wig around her finger.

"Ohhh senpai~! Let me hop right into your hea--"

*SPLAT.*

This time it was chocolate pudding. The ears flopped backward from the impact. Tsukiko gasped dramatically, pretending to collapse backward onto the desk like a Shakespearean heroine dying of pie-related heartbreak.

"Senpai, nooooooo!"

The crew howled with laughter. Even the director had to wipe tears from his eyes.

After the final take, Tsukiko sat off-camera with cream still clinging to her face. She grinned and sipped a water bottle.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "this is probably Yume's purest fantasy version of romance-- awkward, performative, and wildly off the mark. I kind of love how wrong it is."

The makeup artist came over with wipes and laughed. "And now we all know what heartbreak tastes like: banana cream and crushed dreams."

Tsukiko raised her bunny-eared head proudly. "Then may Bunny Girl Yume fall in love-- and fall *on her face*-- as many times as it takes."

----

Tsukiko slipped into the Maid Yume costume with a familiar sigh. The black-and-white dress was neat, modest, and utterly proper-- much like Yume herself. The delicate lace apron tied precisely, the starched frills sitting just so.

She adjusted the white headband with the little frills, straightened the collar, and smoothed the skirt over her knees. She glanced in the mirror and muttered, "Polite. Compliant. Dutiful. The very definition of... boring."

The set was done up as a perfect pastel classroom turned stately mansion parlor, with a grand wooden table set for tea. Tsukiko, now Maid Yume, stood poised with a small silver tray in her hands, carrying a teapot, a cup, and a tiny plate of cookies. She was supposed to glide gracefully, serving tea to her "master," an imaginary classmate.

The director called "Action!"

Tsukiko tried to embody the calm and serene Maid Yume, matching Yume's usual polite, demure demeanor. But she fought the creeping boredom as she moved slowly and carefully, almost robotic in her actions.

In the real world, Yume had collided with a fellow student. In the context of reality, in the scenes she had filmed at Sunshine Academy earlier, this had been just a light brush in the hallway that resulted in a couple of dropped books, but in the inner world...

Tsukiko's eyes went wide. The collision spun her backward, and her tray wobbled perilously. With a comic *gasps* and a desperate clutch, Maid Yume attempted to steady the tray.

But the teapot-- a comically oversized, ornate thing that looked like it belonged in a royal palace, but was actually a rubber prop-- tipped. Tea exploded like a tiny geyser, splashing across the table, the floor, and, most importantly, all over Maid Yume.

Tsukiko's face scrunched as the cool tea dribbled down her cheeks and soaked the frills of her apron. She flailed one hand, trying to grab a napkin, only to knock over the cookie plate, sending biscuits skittering everywhere. She threw her arms out for balance, stumbled backward, and slipped on the now-wet floor.

Maid Yume landed on her rear and rolled her back on the floor. She sprawled out wearing a shocked expression on her face and her knees bent in a way she was certain the camera could see up her skirt.

The director cracked up. The crew was laughing so hard some had tears in their eyes.

Tsukiko tried to stiffle her laugher, fighting to avoid breaking character, but leaning into the absurdity of the moment.

After several more takes filming ended and she was safely back in the dressing room, Tsukiko wiped her face and grinned. Unlike her previous filming session as Maid Yume, this time it leaned into the absurdist comedy of the other Inner Selves.

"Okay, I get it now. Maid Yume may be the most 'normal,' but normal can be *hilariously* over the top when you treat everyday mistakes like huge scandals."

She twirled the lace apron and sighed with mock grandeur, "I am the most dutiful maid in all the land-- until catastrophe strikes."

----

## Unwinding With the Mentor

The smell of incense and wet earth lingered in the morning mist over the open-air set of 'The Shogun's Bodyguard'. Pinewood scaffolding towered above an Edo-style street, and costumed crew members moved quietly across the dirt path, adjusting banners, placing props, and whispering into walkies.

Tsukiko Kisaragi adjusted her cap and slipped past a prop cart. It was her day off from filming 'Yume's Inner World', and though her minor role in 'Shogun' was already wrapped, she found herself missing the world of quiet intensity and historical elegance. More truthfully, she missed Shizuka Minazuki-- her mentor, and the woman she idolized since they first met.

She found Shizuka in the makeup trailer, seated quietly as a stylist applied charcoal eyeliner and touched up her lilac hair with dark streaks for her kunoichi guise.

Tsukiko stood near the door until Shizuka caught her reflection in the mirror and smiled faintly.

"Well, if it isn't the prodigy herself," Shizuka said.

"Just a tired TV actress trying to remember how to breathe," Tsukiko replied, sliding into the chair beside her.

The stylist glanced at Tsukiko, half-expecting a starlet's ego, but Tsukiko simply offered a polite nod. Shizuka closed her eyes as more pigment was applied.

"You're filming 'Yume' still, right?" Shizuka asked. "How's it going?"

Tsukiko chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. "I got baby food in my hair. Again."

Shizuka's brow rose, amused.

"They said it was 'pumpkin puree,' but I think it was actually mashed sweet potato with some kind of dye. Edible and washable, at least." Tsukiko shrugged. "It's absurd, but kind of... freeing? One minute I'm acting like a bossy delinquent with a faulty lighter, the next I'm in a bunny suit getting pied in the face."

Shizuka opened her eyes. "You know," she said, "that's exactly the kind of role I always wanted when I was starting out."

Tsukiko blinked. "Wait, seriously?"

Shizuka smiled, faintly wistful. "Sure, it is a little humiliating, I'll give you that, but only if you let it be. Roles like that push you, Tsukiko. You can't phone them in. You've got to dig deep, find what's sincere in the ridiculous. That's what makes a character resonate."

Tsukiko looked down at her hands. "I guess I keep thinking I'm not good enough to do it right. But I'm trying."

"You are doing it right," Shizuka said, turning to look at her directly. "Most actors struggle to be convincing in *one* genre. You're flipping between five versions of the same girl-- each with different emotional stakes. That's not just comedy. That's range."

Tsukiko flushed slightly at the praise, and her smile faltered for a moment. "It's just... I don't think my parents would see it that way. They already think I'm wasting my talent."

Shizuka nodded in understanding.

"They think I should be doing period dramas like this," she added, gesturing vaguely with her arm around the trailer, "and tasteful films only. Something serious and respectable. They made it clear that I'm letting them down, that my choices only serve to make me a glorified clown."

Shizuka's voice was calm, but firm. "You are doing something serious. You're telling a story that matters-- even if it's dressed in comedy. If *you* believe in the work, that's what matters. Your parents don't get to define the height of your ambition."

Tsukiko was quiet for a moment. "I didn't realize until recently how much Yume and I have in common. She keeps everything inside. She tries to be what everyone expects. But inside, she's split into all these pieces. Baby Yume, Delinquent Yume, Idol Yume..."

"Bunny Girl Yume," Shizuka added with a grin.

"Right," Tsukiko laughed. "But she's just trying to figure herself out. It's like she's terrified to admit that she doesn't really know who she's supposed to be yet. I guess I've been doing the same thing, hiding behind the roles I take or the way I talk around my family. But playing Yume... it's making me confront things I didn't want to admit."

Shizuka tilted her head. "So... no 'Baby Tsukiko' hiding somewhere inside?"

"Ugh, no," Tsukiko said flatly. "I'm not the type to curl up and cry."

Shizuka gave her a knowing smirk. "Maybe not in public."

Tsukiko groaned. "I guess I walked into that one, didn't I?"

Shizuka laughed gently, the way only someone with nothing to prove can laugh. "You don't have to give names to your inner selves to grow from them. You just have to acknowledge they exist."

There was a pause.

"Thanks," Tsukiko said, bowing slightly. "Really."

"You're doing fine," Shizuka said. "Keep doing the kind of work that makes you scared. That's the work worth doing."

Tsukiko stood to leave, glancing at the ornate kunoichi costume hanging by the wardrobe rack.

"Be the best ninja there is, bodyguard."

Shizuka bowed her head slightly. "And good luck to you, inner world traveler."

----

## Buruma Blues

The early morning sun shined through the windows of Sunshine Academy's indoor courts, housed in an enormous gym. A gaggle of background actors-- students looking to make a little extra money and possibly some TV exposure-- milled around in white shirts and navy blue gym shorts for the guys and buruma for the girls-- the traditional school gym uniform, long since phased out in other schools. It was nostalgic, perhaps even iconic, especially for dramas filmed at the well-known Sunshine Academy campus set... but Tsukiko Kisaragi didn't feel particularly inspired by the uniform's legacy.

She tugged lightly at the hem of her shirt, trying to make it sit lower, and adjusted her buruma shorts with practiced discomfort. She had worn this same gym uniform for 'When We Were Together' and she remembered dreading every scene where the camera caught her from behind-- not because she was ashamed of her body, but because the uniform felt less like a character choice and more like a relic of the male gaze.

Still, she was playing Yume again today. And Yume wouldn't complain; she was quiet, dutiful, and maybe a little hesitant. She was a model student on the surface.

Tsukiko rolled her shoulders back and exhaled as she walked to the edge of the gym court, where the assistant director was going over blocking for the basketball scene. She stood among the other students, nodding politely and listening as they were told to keep things "natural, but active" during the game. Yume wouldn't be the center of the shot at first, but the director did mention a key "moment" would occur midway through the scene-- something Tsukiko would be expected to sell with subtle emotion.

That "moment" came during the second take.

The ball came flying on a missed pass, bouncing once-- and then thunked her squarely on the side of her head.

Tsukiko staggered, blinking, and caught herself quickly. The bounce wasn't hard enough to injure, but it wasn't soft, either. The whole set froze in an awkward half-breath.

"You okay?" one of the extras asked.

"I'm fine," Tsukiko said quickly, brushing her hair back into place. Her voice was cool, even, and so very Yume.

The cameras kept rolling, and the game resumed. But something changed in Tsukiko's expression.

She was still Yume, still quiet... but now, every bounce of the ball, every step across the court had an edge to it. When Yume next intercepted the ball, she didn't hesitate. She darted toward the hoop, her movements crisp, almost sharp. Her movements were purposeful, something which would be reflected in her Inner World filmed at another time.

The director whispered to the assistant, eyes narrowing.

Tsukiko didn't need a cue to know what was happening internally for Yume. *Of course* Yume would say she was okay. She always said she was okay. Whether it was when classmates talked over her, when a teacher forgot her name, or when her parents dismissed her small victories. Yume endured everything quietly-- but that didn't mean she wasn't keeping score.

She could already picture the upcoming Inner World sequences: Delinquent Yume would throw the basketball straight through one of the gym's windows, sparks flying from her sneakers as she strutted off-court with a triumphant scoff. Baby Yume, having been 'bowled over' with a hilariously oversized basketball prop, would sit on the floor, tears welling up as she clutched her head, waiting for someone-- anyone-- to notice her pain. Maid Yume would profusely apologize for "being hit," convinced she had somehow caused the ball to fly toward her.

Tsukiko smiled faintly despite herself. It was absurd, but it *was* Yume.

As the director called cut, praising the "subtle aggression" in her post-hit play, Tsukiko wandered to the sidelines, towel around her neck. She caught her reflection in one of the prop mirrors leaned against the equipment crate.

The gym uniform still made her feel exposed, but somehow, it didn't matter as much anymore. *Yume* wore it. Tsukiko *acted* it. She was learning to navigate both realities.

----

Tsukiko lounged in the folding chair set opposite Astra's synthesizer, her legs tucked up underneath her. The old CRT TV flickered static in the background-- it was, as usual, just background noise that Astra normally ignored. A cup of vending machine coffee sat untouched on the folding table next to the synthesizer, gone cold long ago. This was Astra's apartment: minimalist, spartan, and just a little melancholic, much like the woman herself.

"I'm just saying," Tsukiko muttered, her voice tinged with dry frustration, "three dramas in a row. Three! All filmed at Sunshine Academy. Every single one had me back in those retro uniforms again. That old seifuku, the buruma, the swimsuit-- even just for one-off scenes. At least for this one they had me wear the blazer uniform."

Astra didn't look up. Her fingers danced across the keys of her compact synthesizer, patch cables snaking in and out like tangled thoughts. "You're building a resume. That's good, isn't it?"

Tsukiko rolled her eyes. "Sure. But at this point, I feel like I deserve an honorary diploma. I must have spent more time in that place than the actual students."

Without missing a beat, Astra replied, "I'm an alum. Music program."

Tsukiko blinked, sitting up straighter. "Wait. You went there?"

Astra finally looked up, nodding once. "Middle school and high school. Full run. We all wore the retro stuff. Everyone did, and still do. Production companies like consistency."

Tsukiko let out an exaggerated groan and buried her face in her hands. "So *you* wore those uniforms, too. That explains so much. You didn't even blink when I complained about the buruma. Or the swimsuit. Or dressing as a *baby*, for that matter. You really don't think anything is a big deal, do you?"

Astra gave a faint shrug, standing. "It's just a costume."

She left the room for a moment, the faint squeak of her closet door audible. Tsukiko was still gathering her thoughts-- half embarrassed, half amused-- when Astra returned, holding three hangers.

She held them out silently: the unmistakable navy-and-white seifuku of Sunshine Academy's middle school track, the white T-shirt and navy buruma gym uniform, and the regulation school swimsuit, all neatly laundered and hanging like ghosts of teenage years long gone.

Tsukiko stared, momentarily speechless.

"You still *have* them?" she finally asked.

Astra tilted her head slightly, as if it hadn't occurred to her it was odd. "They were clean. I don't throw things out."

"Do they still fit?" Tsukiko asked, with a sly glint in her eye.

Astra gave a long sigh, already sensing the turn the conversation was taking. "No," she answered quickly.

The two friends stared at each other for a moment in silence.

Then Astra asked the fatal question: "...Which one?"

A mischievous smile curled at the corner of Tsukiko's lips. This was her moment-- revenge for Astra's complete refusal to wear the baby outfit they had agreed to wear together before she was officially cast on 'Yume's Inner World'.

"The gym uniform," Tsukiko said, sweetly venomous. "I think you owe it to your alma mater."

Astra closed her eyes, clearly regretting all of her life choices that had led to this moment. Then, wordlessly, she turned and disappeared into her bedroom to change.

Tsukiko leaned back, feeling a wicked satisfaction bubble up inside her. She didn't even care that she'd worn the same thing half a dozen times this year. Watching Astra get back into her old gym uniform was worth all the chafing seams in the world.

Moments later, Astra returned, now dressed in the unmistakable Sunshine Academy gym uniform. It was tight-- she'd grown since leaving high school-- but Astra wore it with the same expression she wore for every performance: serene resignation, her golden eyes narrowed into a perpetual death glare.

"Happy?" she asked flatly.

Tsukiko nodded, smirking. "Very. I think you just won back all your lost baby points."

Astra sat back down at her synthesizer, acting like nothing had changed. "I'm recording like this now. Deal with it."

Tsukiko grinned and reached for her phone. "Only if I get to take a picture first."

Astra glanced over. "Delete it after."

"Maybe."

The CRT TV buzzed faintly in the background, a relic from another era-- just like the uniforms, just like the school, just like the shared experiences that tied the two women together in ways neither of them would admit aloud.

----

## Roar of the Inner Self

It was still early when Tsukiko Kisaragi arrived at the unfamiliar sound stage. She had not been told of the specifics of this part of the shoot, as it was marked as a 'surprise' in her copy of the script, with no lines to learn. Her agent, Arisa, accompanied her to the set, handing her a call sheet and pointing her toward a nondescript metal door.

"This isn't the usual Inner World set," Tsukiko said, eyeing the towering warehouse.

"Nope," Arisa said with a grin. "You're on the Sentai lot today. Just go with it. Remember to have fun."

Inside, Tsukiko was greeted by a surreal sight: rows of miniature buildings, some already looking suspiciously damaged, arranged like a full city block scaled for kaiju-sized chaos. Scaffolding, pyrotechnic rigs, and crumbling foam skyscrapers dotted the stage. It looked exactly like every low-budget tokusatsu show she had ever seen on TV growing up.

Standing in the middle of it all was the director, looking extremely pleased with himself.

"Kisaragi! Welcome to Monster Madness Mode!"

Tsukiko blinked. "This... is for 'Yume's Inner World'?"

"Oh yes," the director said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "You're going to be Kaiju Yume today. One of those special one-off Inner Selves. This one is born in a moment of pure, unfettered rage--"

"Played for laughs," added the assistant director dryly.

The director beamed, his expression clearly demonstrating to Tsukiko that this particular shoot might be one of his life-long dreams. "Yume's bottled frustration finally bubbles over, and it's just... TOO MUCH. So it takes the form of a big, stompy, rampaging kaiju. You'll only be on screen for about ten seconds, but it's the punchline to a great emotional buildup."

Tsukiko was already laughing. "Okay, but-- what's the costume?"

Right on cue, a crew member brought over a green, scaly kigurumi onesie-- complete with felt spines, stubby claws on the sleeves, and a floppy tail. As was typical with the outfit, the head was a simple hood, which would leave her head exposed. It was clear there would be no attempt at realism.

"You're joking," Tsukiko said, holding it up with both hands.

"Nope. You're the towering lizard of fury-- *but cute!*"

Minutes later, she was dressed as the most adorable kaiju Tokyo had ever seen.

Despite herself, Tsukiko was grinning ear to ear as she climbed carefully onto the city model set. A safety crew stood nearby. The director gave her instructions through a megaphone: "Okay, you're *mad*, Kisaragi! Mad like Yume has never been before! Time to DESTROY this city! Wave your arms! Stomp your feet! Flail like you just stubbed your toe on the entire nation!"

"Got it!" she called back, adjusting the tail behind her.

"Don't forget to roar!"

The camera rolled. Tsukiko took a moment to channel every little injustice Yume had endured: being talked over, laughed at, ignored, brushed aside.

Then she raised her stubby green arms and let out a goofy little "RAAAWR!!"

With wide exaggerated movements, she stomped through the miniature city, knocking over a foam building like it had personally offended her. She spun around, tail swinging and accidentally smacking over a radio antenna tower, sending it flying. Her next step crushed a cardboard car; she flailed her arms with exaggerated rage and shook her fists at the heavens.

The director was laughing. The assistant director wiped tears from his eyes.

"Perfect! We'll add fire-breath FX in post!"

Tsukiko turned, gave the camera one last deranged kaiju glare, and let out a final "GRRRRRAAAAAAAR!!" before collapsing onto her knees in mock-exhaustion.

"Cut!"

Tsukiko climbed off the set, still giggling. "That might've been the dumbest thing I've ever done on camera."

"Possibly," the director said. "But it's going to be *great*."

She pulled back the kigurumi hood, cheeks flushed from laughter and effort. For a character so often stuck in her head, Yume's rare explosion of emotion-- absurd and over-the-top as it was-- felt weirdly *cathartic*.

"Can I get a copy of the footage when it's ready?" Tsukiko asked.

"Already marked you on the edit list," the assistant director said. "You'll love it."

As Tsukiko headed for the dressing area to change out of her kaiju suit, she thought about how far she'd come in the role. Yume was quiet, compliant, and repressed, but maybe she was starting to roar... even if it was in a fuzzy green lizard onesie.

----

## The Maid Cafe Incident

The Sunshine Academy classroom was dressed in soft pastels and imitation vintage charm: lace-trimmed curtains, mismatched china teacups, printed menus with faux calligraphy. The hand-painted sign outside the classroom door read: "Cafe Ange – A Sweet Time Awaits!" Above it, taped with absurd pride, was another sign: "Trivia Show: Punish Your Maid (Gently)!" The setting for the episode was the annual cultural festival-- a staple of the Japanese school life, one which every student was familiar with. And, in predictable fashion, Yume's class decided to hold a maid cafe.

Tsukiko adjusted the frilly headband clipped delicately into her dark hair, glancing at herself in the mirror. Her costume wasn't quite the same as Maid Yume's Inner World uniform, but the school's maid outfit had a charm of its own: modest sleeves, a ruffled white apron, a crisp black blouse and knee-length skirt. Instead of the thigh-high stockings of Maid Yume, Tsukiko wore full white tights with this outfit. Everything about it made her appear even more demure than usual.

Throughout the day's shoot, Tsukiko slipped into the rhythm of serving tea and shy smiles. She bowed gently to customers, took orders in a polite murmur, and performed the lines written in the script: "Would you like one sugar cube or two, Master?"

Between takes, crew moved around the tight space with boom mics and cameras while extras posed as eager classmates and visiting guests. The set dressing had been done with unusual care. The director murmured to Tsukiko at one point, "You're *too good* at this," and she only smiled-- after all, she had played Maid Yume before. Here, she was playing Maid Yume in real life.

But the real reason they were here-- the reason this was part of the show at all-- was coming up.

According to the episode's script, the class had planned a "Maid Battle Trivia Show" as a final act to draw in festivalgoers. Tsukiko, as Yume, was one of three featured maids to participate.

They stood in a row before the chalkboard, each holding a squeaky plastic buzzer. A crowd gathered inside and just outside the door. Tsukiko could feel the slight tension in her shoulders; this was one of the *only* moments in the series where "real life" Yume-- her calm, grounded self-- would experience something *genuinely* humiliating. It was not stylized, nor symbolic; the scene would not be carried by Inner World melodrama.

For this scene Yume was simply getting a pie to the face.

She held the buzzer primly in front of her, as Yume would. The homeroom representative, playing emcee with a grin filled with anticipation, launched into the trivia.

The first question was about a minor school event.

The second was about an obscure historical figure mentioned once in class.

The third... something about a janitor's full name.

Each question was *clearly* designed for failure.

The "raffle," meanwhile, had already determined the "punishments." The class had sold tickets to decide them, with guests writing in what kind of punishment the losing maid should receive. Yume, of course, lost the third round.

The emcee gave a dramatic pause. "And so, our sweet and elegant Maid Yume shall receive..." He reached under the prop table, producing a modest cream pie with a paper doily beneath it. "...a dessert-themed crown!" he declared.

There was scattered laughter.

Tsukiko, as Yume, smiled gently. "Understood," she said in that same quiet, even tone.

And then, the cream pie landed full in her face with a gentle *plop*, obscuring her features in white fluff. Laughter from the audience rose, not malicious, but spontaneous. Yume stood there for a breath, frozen. And then she bowed-- pie still dripping from her face and hair. She straightened up and smiled again, this time with a faint glimmer of resignation and grace.

"I hope... the dessert was to your taste," she said, her voice conveying her demure acceptance.

The crowd roared with laughter and applause.

After shooting wrapped on the cafe sequence, Tsukiko stood beside the catering truck, sipping bottled tea. The pie was long gone from her face, but she still smelled faintly of vanilla cream. She looked over the printed call sheet for tomorrow's scenes-- Inner World sequences. Maid Yume would clearly blow the whole incident out of proportion when she similarly received a pie in the face.

But Tsukiko had to admit something to herself: getting pied like that... wasn't *that* bad. "Real life" Yume had handled the absurdity without falling apart. She wondered if that wouldn't be a subtle turning point-- a minor moment that symbolized Yume's growth in ways none of the Inner World persona could've imagined.

With a smile, Tsukiko marked her copy of the script. Then she jotted a small note beside the scene.

"Worth it."

----

## The Selves of Yume

Tsukiko Kisaragi sat in the dim hush of a backstage dressing room, her makeup half-removed, her borrowed school uniform folded neatly on the chair beside her. The filming for today's "Yume's Inner World" had wrapped, but the echoes of her performance still lingered in her mind like the scent of stage fog in her hair. The first six episodes had completed filming and were currently airing on national television, and the reception was beyond the production's expectations.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, seeing neither herself nor Yume-- just someone who lived between them. A ghost in borrowed skin. A shape that shifted with every new scene.

Yume-- more accurately, "Real life" Yume-- was the quiet girl who bore it all with a smile. Her straight bangs, her oversized school bag, her too-polite apologies when someone bumped into her, even when it wasn't her fault. Yume was quiet, deferential, an open wound stitched neatly shut. That was the role Tsukiko played most often-- the role that required the least transformation, and yet the most restraint. Yume was always "okay," even when she clearly wasn't. Tsukiko wasn't sure if she was *acting*, or if she had simply learned to do the same.

And then there were the Inner Selves.

Maid Yume wore a frilly dress and a white apron. She fussed over others, cleaned endlessly, flinched when praised, and never stopped apologizing. She existed for service, for pleasing others. She was a performance within a performance. In one image spot she slipped in a puddle of soap while cleaning a floor, slid fifteen feet, and crashed into a wall. Tsukiko, trying not to smile, had stayed in character.

"Maid Yume is Yume with no voice of her own," Tsukiko mused. "Just hands, always moving."

Idol Yume was a sparkly contradiction: glittery twintails, ribbons everywhere, and a voice that could shatter windows-- high-pitched and fake. Her songs were about friendship and dreams and the courage to smile through pain. She was confidence on platform heels, always seconds away from collapsing under her own artificial joy. Tsukiko remembered filming a scene where Idol Yume danced through falling confetti, only for a bucket of slime to spill on her from above and the music abruptly cut out. It was all part of the show: slapstick as catharsis.

"That one," Tsukiko thought, "was Yume trying too hard to be liked."

Delinquent Yume was fury incarnate. Her blazer hanging over her shoulders like a cape, her skirt longer than regulation, and an accessory bandage across her cheek marked her as the classic 'sukeban' archetype. She kicked vending machines and shouted with abandon. She lit up prop cigarettes trying to act cool. She threw chalk at teachers, got into brawls, and chewed bubblegum like a threat. Every movement was sharp. Her very presence said: "I am not weak." Tsukiko had broken a fake desk prop during a scene, slamming it with a prop bat, then slipped in her own rage and hit the floor. The irony hadn't escaped her.

"Maybe she's the part of me that wanted to scream when I couldn't."

Bunny Girl Yume was pure absurdity: rabbit ears, dark tights, and heels, always posed, always coquettish. She was always meant to be comedic, like a flirt programmed by someone who had never dated. She once filmed in a casino in a dream sequence, dramatically losing a hand of cards and getting dropped into a trapdoor. Tsukiko had laughed until she cried when she saw the playback.

"She's Yume pretending to have control, when everything's a joke."

Baby Yume was the most ridiculous: the bonnet, the ruffled bloomers, and even the pacifier. She rode a comically tiny tricycle once, fell over, and got pied in the face by a talking teddy bear. The scene played with bubble sound effects and cartoon foley. The audience loved it. Tsukiko hated that it worked. That *she* had made it work.

"She's Yume at her most helpless. Or... the part of me that feels like I'm still pretending to be grown-up."

She leaned back in her chair, letting the dressing room's stillness surround her like a warm coat.

Each Inner Self was absurd; they were exaggerations, comic relief, or windows into the parts Yume wouldn't show the world. But Tsukiko knew that none of them came from nowhere-- they were her, just refracted through Yume.

Sometimes, she wondered if the series was really a slow, unintentional confession. That, in peeling back Yume's fractured self, she had exposed parts of her own psyche she hadn't meant to. She had worn the clothes, cried the lines, and slipped, flailed, stomped, squealed, and smirked for the camera. And the audience laughed. Sometimes they cried. And somehow, despite everything, Tsukiko kept coming back.

Maybe, by playing a girl broken into pieces, she was starting to learn how to hold her own pieces a little closer.

She pulled her hoodie over her shoulders, gave her reflection a small, wry smile, and whispered, "See you tomorrow, Yume."

----

## Astra's Inner World

Astra sat cross-legged on the worn towel set on the floor of her apartment, the soft hum of her old CRT television still buzzing faintly as the ending credits of 'Yume's Inner World' Episode 3 rolled by. The screen flickered for a moment before stabilizing again, a faint afterglow of pastel colors and retro music lingering like mist in the air.

She had watched all three episodes that currently aired, which for someone like Astra-- whose attention usually flitted between synth layering and obscure doujin games-- was a rare act of commitment. But this wasn't just any show; this was *Tsukiko's* show. She did not own a DVR, so she needed to catch the episodes when they aired; Astra made sure to set aside personal time for just that.

Her notebook lay open on the folding table, pages crowded with cryptic shorthand, bullet points, and a few hastily drawn doodles of Yume's many forms. The scrawl was chaotic, but purposeful.

She stared at the page marked "YUME / TSUKIKO STUDY" in block letters.


Maid Yume - closest to "real" Yume. Mannered, restrained, sincere.
* Slapstick sequences (falling off ladders, slipping on soap, etc.) seem to parody Yume's obsession with being good/perfect.
* Like Tsukiko herself trying *too hard* to be in control.

Bunny Girl Yume - hyper-self-conscious about "romance."
* Overreacts when touched, romantic cliches spiral into disaster.
* Usually ends with slapstick.
* Expression of sexual awkwardness? Feels like Yume learned about love from shoujo manga and awkward daydreams.
* *Relatable* (??) - Tsukiko is straight. But what are *we*? Still undefined.

Delinquent Yume - raw emotional honesty.
* Most *emotionally* direct. Expresses anger.
* Tsukiko is holding back a lot. It comes out here.
* She smiles the most while playing Delinquent Yume.

Baby Yume - regression, vulnerability.
* Tsukiko's braver than I am.
* ...I still feel guilty. I said we'd both do it.

Idol Yume - exaggerated voice, high energy, cutesy.
* *Annoying on purpose.* But...
* *She can sing.*
* She's holding back on me.
* I asked her to be in my MV and assumed she couldn't carry a tune.
* Idol Yume has pitch control, modulation. Tsukiko *knows* how to sing.
* Did she lie by omission? Or was she scared?


Astra sat back, twirling her pen in her fingers, the metallic click of its casing rhythmic against her thumb.

She remembered asking Tsukiko to star in the music video for 'In the Stillness'. Tsukiko had been hesitant, but ultimately agreed. Astra had assumed singing wasn't her thing and therefore never asked her to. But now...

Now Astra was watching her best friend belt out overly saccharine lines as Idol Yume, twirling with excessive flair, glowing under the pastel spotlight. And while the performance was meant to be a parody of idols and their too-sweet personas, Astra could *hear* it: the control, the breath support, the deliberate vibrato in a single exaggerated "nya~."

Tsukiko could *definitely* sing.

Astra shut the notebook slowly and stared at the muted screen. The thought had already begun circling her mind like a moth to a dim light. She wanted to hear Tsukiko sing something real-- not Idol Yume's candy-coated parody songs, but one of *her* own tracks. Something atmospheric, melancholic, floating just above the beat-- like the stuff Astra composed for Moonlight Prism, but more intimate and personal.

A voice like Tsukiko's, hidden behind layers of silence and restraint, might just be what her next song needed.

Astra leaned back, her head resting against the peeling wallpaper, and exhaled slowly. "I should ask her," she murmured to no one. "But not right away."

She smiled faintly, her expression unreadable in the flickering CRT light, and opened her notebook again.

Under the last note on Idol Yume, she added one more:

* Write a song.

----

Astra didn't like offices.

She stood outside Arisa's door for a full minute before knocking. The carpeted hallway of the Moon River Talent Agency felt too quiet, too clean, too... corporate. Her scuffed boots and frayed jacket stood in sharp contrast to the minimalist, expensive decor, but she didn't care. Not today. She had come with purpose.

Her worn notebook was held tight against her chest as she gave three rapid knocks.

"Come in~!" came Arisa's sing-song voice.

Astra opened the door with a short nod and stepped in, her posture as stiff as ever. Arisa, seated behind a large desk with a flat-panel monitor on one corner and a stack of perfectly organized folders on the other, glanced up and blinked in surprise.

"Well, this is rare," Arisa said with a faint grin. "You usually only show up when Hana drags you in."

Astra said nothing at first, only walked forward and placed the notebook on Arisa's desk, flipping it open to a page that had the heading *YUME SONG CONCEPT*. Underneath, in her tight, angled handwriting, were fragments of lyrics and notes. Arisa leaned forward, skimming the page quickly.

"I want to write a song," Astra said, her voice keeping its usual low tone. "For 'Yume's Inner World'."

Arisa blinked. "...You?"

Astra gave a small nod.

"That's not usually something you're involved with," Arisa mused, curiosity piqued. "You sure this isn't a Moonlight Prism thing?"

"It's not," Astra said. "It's for Tsukiko."

That made Arisa raise her eyebrows.

"I want to write an image song, in character, for Yume. Something reflective of her... of Tsukiko's performance. Something she can sing as Yume."

Arisa leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. "Interesting. You're thinking it could be used as a promo?"

"Or in the show, if they want," Astra said. "If not, it can just live on its own. Doesn't matter. I want to do this for her."

There was a pause. Arisa was studying her now-- not just listening, but reading between the lines. She always had a knack for that.

"And you're coming to me because..."

"You know people... the producers in charge of the show. I don't."

Arisa's smile softened. "Fair enough." She tapped a nail lightly on the desk. "The show might already be too far along in production for something like this, depending on where they're at. But I'll reach out. If there's an opening, I'll pitch it."

Astra looked away, nodding once. "Thanks."

"And if they are interested," Arisa continued, "we'll present it to Tsukiko. If she wants to sing it."

Astra's fingers tightened slightly on the edge of her coat, but she nodded again.

Arisa smiled to herself, then stood and walked around the desk, resting a hand gently on Astra's shoulder.

"You really care about her, huh?" she said softly. "This is more than just a song."

Astra didn't answer. Her eyes were fixed on the notebook.

Arisa didn't push. She just gave her shoulder a small, reassuring squeeze. "I'll talk to them."

Astra exhaled, tension visibly leaving her frame. She picked up the notebook again and turned to leave, but just before she reached the door, Arisa called out.

"Oh, and Astra?"

She turned her head.

"...I think she'd say yes. Just so you know."

Astra gave a small nod. Not quite a smile-- but close. Then, notebook in hand, she slipped out the door, back into the hall, back into her quiet world of synth tones and scribbled lyrics. But this time, she was walking with purpose.

----

Astra sat with her arms folded and her notebook clutched tightly to her chest, the worn cover nearly crumpling under her grip. Arisa's office felt strangely warm today, maybe because it was crowded with three members of Moonlight Prism... or maybe because of the conversation that was about to happen.

Hana sat calmly to Astra's right, legs crossed, her composed expression unchanged. Riko, perched somewhat sideways in her chair with her usual mischievous grin, twirled a strand of silver hair. Arisa stood behind her desk, looking less like an agent today and more like a chess master about to move a very delicate piece.

"Well," Arisa said, tapping her tablet, "I've got good news... and some logistics."

Riko raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like agent code for: you're gonna be tired but it'll be worth it."

Arisa smirked. "Pretty much."

She turned the screen around so the others could see. On it was the stylized logo for 'Yume's Inner World', with a subject line below it: "Provisional Approval: Image Song-- Moonlight Prism."

"The production company loves the idea. But they didn't bite on just an 'Astra track.' They want the whole band involved. Name recognition and all."

Astra's fingers slowly relaxed on her notebook. She didn't say anything.

"They want a full image song for Yume-- vocals by Tsukiko Kisaragi, featuring Moonlight Prism. Ideally something that can be used for promotional materials or as a theme insert. There's a very narrow window, though. They're currently filming Episode 8. We're lucky to even have a response this fast."

Hana nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense. Everyone's watching it right now. If they want to make use of the hype, they'd have to act fast. And we're a hot band right now, so having us fall into their laps like this, they'd be crazy to say 'no'."

"However..." she added, "we just came off playing at the Tokyo Dome. We weren't scheduled to do anything for a while. If we agree to this, we're giving up our only proper downtime for the next couple of months."

Riko leaned over and nudged Hana with her elbow. "Come on. It's Astra. When's the last time she asked us for anything?"

Hana tilted her head, looking at Astra. "Never," she said quietly.

All eyes turned to Astra, who was now looking down, her bangs casting a shadow over her golden eyes. Her lips parted, but she hesitated.

"I didn't mean... for it to get this big," Astra said, almost a whisper. "I just wanted to write something for her. Something meaningful. Now it's--" She waved her hand vaguely. "--turning into a whole production."

Hana stood and walked over, kneeling slightly so they were eye-level.

"You care," she said gently. "So what if it got big? You still want to do it, right?"

Astra nodded, slowly.

Riko gave a thumbs up. "Then we'll make it work. Two weeks, we've done more with less. Kaede and Itsuki will whine a bit, but they'll follow our lead."

Arisa clasped her hands together. "Then it's settled. I'll coordinate with production and Tsukiko to lock in studio time when she's not filming. If we're careful, we can fit in a vocal recording session without interrupting anything."

Astra looked up, her expression still a mix of worry and quiet awe. "Even if it doesn't get used?"

Arisa smiled. "It's still a good promo asset, and you'll have made something for her. That's what matters, right?"

Astra didn't answer. Instead, she looked at Hana, who gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, soft and grounding.

"You're not doing this alone," Hana said.

For the first time that day, Astra smiled-- small, crooked, and almost uncertain, but a smile nonetheless.

----

## Merging Selves, Merging Sounds

Tsukiko Kisaragi sat cross-legged on the faux-leather couch in her modest trailer parked on the edge of the Sunshine Academy campus, a place transformed into the main filming set for 'Yume's Inner World'. Her long black hair was tied into a practical bun, half undone after a long day of filming, strands falling around her face. A warm cup of tea sat untouched on the little coffee table. Her eyes scanned the new batch of scripts for Episodes 9 through 12, and her lips were drawn into a thoughtful line.

She flipped a page, brow furrowing.

"Episode 9: Fusion Error - Idol Yume and Bunny Girl Yume must share a body."

Tsukiko blinked.

"...What?"

She flipped to the attached production notes. They were cheerily annotated in pastel highlighters and littered with costume design sketches and a diagram labeled 'Yume's Internal Consolidation Process', which felt more like mad science than character development.

Apparently, beginning with Episode 9, Yume's fragmented inner personalities-- her Inner Selves-- would begin to merge, with the end goal of forming a singular, authentic Yume: her "True Self." It was, artistically speaking, an elegant direction, but reality offered a different perspective.

"Well, that's going to be... weird," she murmured aloud.

She glanced down at the hybrid costume sketch for Idol-Bunny Yume, and her mouth flattened into a dubious line. A frilly, sparkly idol dress with awkward bunny ears, fishnet stockings, and a giant ribbon tied to the back. She imagined trying to act like someone both craving applause and panicking over accidental romantic innuendo at the same time.

"No wonder it says 'fusion error,'" she muttered.

Another page revealed that Delinquent Yume and Maid Yume would also be merging-- creating a sharp-tongued, baseball bat-wielding maid with assertive energy and simmering internal contradictions. The sketch showed her with a black frilly maid dress cut at an angle, her school blazer hanging over her shoulders, and boots instead of heels.

Tsukiko set the pages down and leaned back, exhaling.

The fusions were temporary... but still bittersweet. She had grown fond of the little quirks that made each Inner Self distinct, and knowing some of them would be absorbed, reinterpreted, and essentially erased, gave her a strange ache in her chest.

Still, the message was clear.

[This is the only way Yume can move forward-- by integrating, not escaping.]

Her eyes skimmed a note at the bottom of the script packet.

"No decision yet on how Baby Yume integrates. Avoid finalization until Episode 11."

She smiled a little. "You're holding out on us, huh?" she said to the note, imagining the tiny, babbling Inner Self clinging to Yume's leg, refusing to be folded into the whole just yet.

Her musings were interrupted by a knock on the trailer door.

"Come in!" she called.

The door opened, revealing the show's producer. He stepped in with a paper folder in hand and a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Got something for you, Kisaragi. Thought you might be interested."

He handed over the folder.

"What's this?" Tsukiko asked as she flipped it open.

"It's a proposal for an image song. It wasn't in the original budget or script plan, but someone really pulled some strings to make this happen."

Her eyes scanned the first page and froze when she saw it.

* Vocals: Tsukiko Kisaragi (as Yume)
* Music: Moonlight Prism
* Lyrics: Astra

Her brows rose. "Wait... not a J-Pop style piece?"

The producer laughed. "Nope. They want you singing over a Moonlight Prism track. Apparently, Astra brought it up, and the agency and the studio were open enough to consider it." He shrugged. "Honestly? When a rising band like Moonlight Prism says they're interested in your show, you don't say no. They're really hot now and we can ride on the wave."

Tsukiko smiled softly, her eyes drifting across the song outline. [Of course this was Astra's doing.]

The reserved techno artist, always quiet on the sidelines, had been watching closely. Tsukiko remembered all their late-night discussions, the times she said playing Yume felt *too* close to home. And now here Astra was... trying to put music to that very soul.

"She's not going to make it a typical pop song, is she?" Tsukiko asked, more to herself than to the producer.

"I doubt it," the producer replied. "But I think that's the point."

Tsukiko closed the folder, her thoughts spinning with scenes of Bunny Yume tripping over words, Maid Yume swinging a mop like a naginata, and Idol Yume demanding attention before getting slime-dunked in karmic retribution.

And somewhere in all that chaos... Astra wanted to add a song.

"I'm in," Tsukiko said simply.

"Good," the producer said with a grin. "You've got one night off next week. We're booking the studio then. Try not to lose your voice screaming."

After the producer left, Tsukiko looked down at her notebook again. The Inner Selves were merging, her song was coming, and Astra had, without saying a word, made it all just a little more real.

She couldn't wait to sing it.

----

## Putting Feelings to Words

Astra at the table, her laptop screen casting a soft glow over her face as she hunched over, staring with great intensity. Her headphones rested around her neck, playing the unfinished instrumental loop she had been tweaking for hours. On the screen was a half-finished document of lyrics. Every time she tried to write something concrete-- something worthy of her best friend-- the words turned evasive, flowery, and vague. It was too close to saying something she wasn't ready to admit.

This was the image song Tsukiko would sing, in-character as Yume-- the *true* Yume-- after everything in the story had collapsed and rebuilt. Astra was supposed to write a song about identity, about *being seen*. But she couldn't stop thinking about Tsukiko *herself*, and whether the feelings that hovered around their friendship were something she should name. Or even could.

Before she knew it, with the pressure boiling in her chest, Astra rest her head on the table, wondering what direction to take the song's lyrics. Her eyes closed, insisting that it was only a break. The dream began in lights and sound.

A bass-heavy beat throbbed through Astra's chest, a heartbeat externalized. She was standing in the center of a glowing, glassy dance floor, surrounded by waves of faceless dancers who flickered like glitchy projections. The air pulsed with electric fog and hot synth. She looked down at herself and sighed, knowing it was a dream-- because what else could explain her outfit?

Her usual black wardrobe had been swapped out for rave-goddess absurdity: a sparkling miniskirt layered in holographic mesh, thigh-high stockings laced with neon pulse lines, and pink wings arched behind her, composed of fiber-optic wires flickering in time with the beat. A heart-shaped cutout of her midriff lined by neon wire pulsed across her chest. She held a keytar, glowing and angular, like a weapon.

She was Rave-Cupid Astra.

The crowd began chanting: "ASTRA! ASTRA! ASTRA!"

She winced in annoyance. She stepped forward, toward center stage. A single spotlight snapped on, drenching her in hyper-pink light. Her platform boots clicked across the panels, each one flashing with color as she passed.

Tsukiko stood just at the edge of the crowd, not in rave attire, but in the Sunshine Academy high school uniform, radiant and untouchable. Her face was unreadable.

Astra reached for the keytar, fingers trembling.

"I wrote this for you," she said, but her voice didn't come out.

She lifted one foot-- and stepped forward onto the next square.

It *wasn't* a square. It didn't light up like the other panels. It *wasn't a panel at all.*

With a soft *fwump*, Astra plunged downward-- not through a trap door, but into something colorful, yielding, and *thick*. It was a cube of slime, invisible against the glow of the floor until it engulfed her. She fell straight through its mass, swallowed whole in a thick splash of glowing neon goop. Hot pink and acid green bubbled around her, clinging to her skin and outfit, warping her image with every twitch. The wings on her back sparked and drooped, limp wires soaked in gel. Her keytar dissolved in her hands, glitching out with a mournful tone.

Above her, the music played on, but slower now-- warped and melting like a corrupted tape.

"ASTRA... ASTRA... ASTRA..."

Tsukiko didn't move. She didn't look away. She didn't *rescue* her. She just *watched*. And that made it worse.

Astra flailed, unable to climb out, her glittered hands slick with slime. Her heart-shaped chest flickered, then shorted out entirely. She sank to her knees in the glowing muck, frustration boiling over in a soundless scream.

She wanted to shout:

"Do I love her?!
Do I *need* to?
Why does it have to be one thing or the other?!
Why do I feel like I *have* to choose?!"

But the answer never came.

"Maybe if I say it out loud...
Maybe if I define it...
She'll see me."

Astra sat there, covered in slime, wings crumpled, skirt wilted, soaked in a dream she didn't understand: not quite in love, not knowing what she was, not quite sure of what to make of any of it. The beat still played-- slow, searching, and unresolved, like a song still waiting for its final lyric.

She woke up with her cheek against the keyboard, light from the screen still burning faintly. Her fingers were sticky with dried sweat. The open document with the lyrics was dominated with whatever keys her head was depressing, and it was just as incomprehensible as the dream.

"What a stupid dream," Astra muttered under her breath.

Sitting up straight, she continued to perfect the lyrics mirroring the turmoil in her heart.

----

The recording studio was busy with activity as artists and crew present worked to prepare for the day's session. Beyond the glass, Moonlight Prism stood in their respective stations-- Kaede already tapping out a soft hi-hat rhythm, Itsuki testing out gentle guitar swells, Riko strumming her bass thoughtfully, and Hana sitting with her violin nestled under her chin, eyes closed as she waited for the emotional tone to settle. Astra stood slightly apart, headphones around her neck, her eyes fixed on the table before her.

Tsukiko stepped into the studio and gave a soft nod to the producer, who returned it with a thumbs-up. She was dressed simply, comfortably, a sweater just loose enough to move in and a warm cup of tea still in her hands. Her expression was calm-- but observant. As the intro playback rolled through the headphones, her eyes widened slightly.

This wasn't some cutesy pop tie-in.

The backing track pulsed with Moonlight Prism's usual blend of emotional depth: introspective guitar chords swirling in trance-like loops, layered under melancholic synth echoes and a grounding, deliberate beat. It was evocative. Thoughtful. A song made not just to sound beautiful, but to *say something*.

Tsukiko turned to the table nearby, expecting Astra to hand her the lyric sheet. But Astra wasn't ready.

In fact, she was barely holding together.

The black-haired trance/techno artist sat surrounded by chaos: drafts of the scripts for the final three episodes of 'Yume's Inner World' were open and half-annotated, lyrics scrawled and crossed out over and over. A mug of untouched coffee sat cold. Astra's eyes flicked up briefly at Tsukiko, then back down. She was writing, frantically, the pen trembling in her fingers.

Tsukiko stepped out of the booth and gently approached the table. "Hey," she said softly. "Got a copy of the lyrics?"

Astra didn't look up. "They're... not done yet."

Tsukiko's gaze flicked to the pages. "Do you mind if I--"

"No." The word came out sharper than intended. Astra winced. "I mean... I'm still working on it."

Tsukiko blinked, then slowly pulled out a chair and sat across from her. "Okay," she said gently. "But I *am* going to sing this eventually. Maybe I can help."

Astra's jaw tensed. "It's... nothing. Just last-minute tweaks. Trying to get the tone right. You know. Keep the structure tight... match the arc."

Tsukiko's eyes moved to the open script pages. She didn't need to read the whole thing again-- she remembered them clearly. Especially the parts where Idol Yume and Bunny Girl Yume stumbled, failed, flailed for attention.

And she saw, in Astra's disheveled notes and restless pen, the unspoken fear.

She leaned forward, voice low but steady. "You're stuck on them, aren't you? Idol Yume and Bunny Girl Yume."

Astra didn't answer. Her grip tightened on the pen.

Tsukiko softened. "The script says Yume learns she doesn't need anyone else's approval. That the pieces that performed for love... weren't real love at all."

Still, Astra didn't look at her.

"And that scares you," Tsukiko said gently. "Because you're not sure if that applies to you."

Silence.

Then Astra finally raised her eyes, guarded and weary. "I know it's the right message. I just... can't write it. Because every time I try, I start thinking: what if I *do* need someone's approval? What if... it's yours?"

The moment landed with a soft but profound gravity.

Tsukiko didn't react with surprise. She just nodded.

"Okay," she said. "Then let me say this."

She reached out and touched Astra's hand-- just lightly, enough to interrupt the trembling.

"You don't need to prove anything to me. Not with lyrics. Not with songs. Not with a perfect arc or some poetic metaphor. I already approve of you, Astra. For everything you are. Even the parts you're still figuring out."

Astra's shoulders trembled. Her gaze dropped, not in shame, but in *relief*.

"...I just wanted it to be perfect," she whispered.

"It doesn't need to be perfect," Tsukiko said. "It needs to be your words, on the page... what you're really feeling."

They sat in silence for a beat. Then Tsukiko reached for a pen on the table. She held it out gently.

"Let's finish it together."

Astra hesitated-- then, slowly, set her pen down. She reached for the second pen, hand brushing against Tsukiko's.

"...Okay."

In a quiet studio filled with unsaid things and unfinished songs, two people began writing-- not just lyrics, but understanding. Not just a song, but a step toward something that neither of them could yet name.

----

## The Most Ridiculous Inner Self

Tsukiko stood in front of the full-length mirror in the dressing room of the 'Inner World' production studio, arms crossed, lips pressed in a thin line. The outfit-- if it could be called that-- gleamed under the vanity lights like a challenge. Sparkling pink sequins framed a heart-shaped cutout just above her midriff, while the frilly, barely-there skirt swished when she shifted her weight. A headset microphone wrapped around her cheek, and of course, a pair of oversized satin bunny ears perched proudly atop her head.

She exhaled slowly. "So this is Idol-Bunny Yume," she murmured. "An existential cry for help... in rhinestones."

The amalgamated costume was clearly the result of two personas amplifying one another's worst instincts: Idol Yume's attention-seeking glamour fused with Bunny Girl Yume's obsessive romantic delusions. The result was a disaster in heels.

"I preferred them separate," Tsukiko muttered while fluffing the poofy tail behind her. She had gotten used to Idol Yume's sparkly pop-star look and even Bunny Girl Yume's girlish cutesiness, but this fusion felt louder, needier-- and less self-aware than either of them alone.

[Of course, that was the point.]

She had read the script: Idol-Bunny Yume was due for an epically over-the-top performance in 'Yume's Inner World', climbing atop a moonlit stage inside a crystalline dreamscape to perform her own song about being loved and admired. Predictably, the whole scene would unravel in spectacular fashion as her illusions crumbled around her-- her backup dancers would abandon her, the lights would short-circuit, and a giant neon heart behind her would explode in a shower of glitter and confetti.

[A metaphor, obviously.] Yume's desperate need for validation, magnified and concentrated, would reach its logical (and explosive) conclusion.

"I wonder if Astra knows how on the nose this is," Tsukiko said under her breath. She thought of the image song, and how Moonlight Prism-- especially Astra-- was still finalizing the mix. Tsukiko trusted them, but she also knew how Astra could get: brooding, perfectionist, emotionally entangled in the meaning behind every note. She hoped Astra was resting. Or eating. Or, at least, blinking occasionally.

A knock came on the door.

"Tsukiko? You're up in five," called the assistant director.

She gave herself one last look. Then a half-smile. "Let's go humiliate ourselves with dignity."

----

The 'Inner World' stage was surreal as ever-- today, shaped like a crystalline nightclub surrounded by floating hearts and glowing music notes. Tsukiko stepped out under the spotlight. Her heels clicked dramatically on the stage, the headset mic active, her voice ready.

The music kicked in-- a hyperpop fusion of idol beats and sugary synths, as Idol-Bunny Yume flounced center stage.

She began her routine with wide, sparkling eyes and a too-sweet smile. "I'm every dream you've ever dreamed!" she declared, twirling. "Every heartbeat when you say my na-- WHOA!"

She tripped over her platform heels and slammed face-first into a giant chocolate cake, another absurd prop for the Inner Self to get messy in. Tsukiko imagined the audience-- illusions generated by Yume's psyche-- gasp in slow motion.

Idol-Bunny Yume popped up, dazed, her face covered in chocolate frosting, then struck a dramatic pose. "I meant to do that!"

The lights dimmed unexpectedly. The set behind her flickered. A giant pink heart flickered in and out of existence.

She went on singing anyway-- "Notice me, love me, validate meeeeee!"-- before the backup dancers turned around, pulled out cue cards that read "WE'RE OVER IT" and walked off the stage.

Then came the finale: the giant neon heart above her head overloaded, sparked, and exploded in a shower of pink glitter that rained down like judgment. The glitter clung to her, having been designed to stick to Tsukiko in an embarrassing manner. One of the bunny ears drooped in defeat.

Tsukiko stood motionless in the aftermath, covered in confetti, face smudged with chocolate frosting, breathing heavily into her headset mic. Then, in a small voice, she said:

"...Nailed it."

----

Back in the dressing room, peeling off the sequin from her elbow, Tsukiko sat on the edge of the bench and shook her head.

"She is *such* a mess."

But she said it with fondness; she knew what this meant. Idol-Bunny Yume was a cautionary tale, a midpoint-- not the end. The absurdity of the performance was the point: Yume's pursuit of attention and idealized romance couldn't be sustained. The persona needed to fall apart before it could merge into Yume's true self.

And maybe Astra needed to see it fall apart, too.

Tsukiko reached for her phone. A text from the studio manager blinked on-screen:

"Moonlight Prism wrapping final mix. Should be ready tonight."

She smiled.

"Good. Because after *that*, I think we all need a song that makes sense of the chaos."

She leaned back, removing her bunny ears headband, and closed her eyes, letting the echoes of glitter explosions and faux heartbreak settle. The journey toward Yume's true self was messy, theatrical, and very ridiculous, but it was her journey, and Tsukiko was proud to help her walk it.

----

## True Strength

Tsukiko stood on the 'Inner World' set, adjusting the white cuffs of the maid uniform as a grip handed her the baseball bat. It wasn't real, of course-- rubber, but weighted right. In its way, it fit.

The rest of the look came together with intention. The traditional black maid dress was still intact, but scuffed now at the hem like it had seen real miles. Over her shoulders, the blazer of Sunshine Academy hung loose like a cape, the school crest barely visible beneath a patch sewn on-- "No More Doormats." Laced-up boots added weight to every step. Even her posture was different: straighter, self-assured, calm.

Delinquent-Maid Yume was grounded, and Tsukiko could feel that.

The director called for cameras. Tsukiko walked to her mark on the dreamscape stage-- a warped vision of the Sunshine Academy student lounge, twisted slightly into a battlefield of words and identity. A younger Inner Self-- Young Yume, played by a younger actress-- stood behind her, afraid to speak. Across from them, a shadowy manifestation of external expectations-- parents, teachers, the faceless crowd-- loomed large and loud.

Delinquent-Maid Yume stepped forward.

Tsukiko gripped the bat. Her voice came out level, unwavering.

"I said no. I'm not going to do what you tell me just because I'm scared. And I'm *not* going to stay quiet just to make things easier."

She raised the bat-- not to swing, but to plant it firmly in the ground beside her.

"Yume doesn't belong to *you*. She belongs to *herself*."

The crowd wavered, their forms flickering like static.

The camera panned. Young Yume peeked out from behind her, wide-eyed. Tsukiko looked back and gave her a small, knowing smile.

"It's okay to cry. Just don't forget you can stand, too."

The scene cut there.

----

Back in the dressing room, Tsukiko sat down on the bench, bat resting across her lap. The next scenes would begin filming tomorrow-- and with them, a change.

Delinquent-Maid Yume would merge with Baby Yume. The costume team had already brought in the modifications: a pair of oversized bloomers to be worn beneath the dress, subtly visible when Delinquent-Maid Yume ran or fought, and a necklace shaped like a pacifier-- both elements meant to remind the audience that strength didn't mean the absence of fear or fragility.

Tsukiko wasn't sure how she felt about it. Vulnerability had always been harder to play than power. Power had posture. Vulnerability had silence.

And yet, she remembered how it had felt to portray Idol-Bunny Yume-- loud, desperate, attention-hungry. She remembered the slapstick fall, the humiliating finale, the false confidence that covered a chasm of need. It had been *too much*-- and *not enough*.

This was different; Delinquent-Maid Yume *wasn't* looking for applause. She wasn't looking to be adored. She just *was*.

Tsukiko stood and walked to the costume rack. She fingered the soft bloomers and pacifier charm, still sealed in their plastic. It would be a quieter performance tomorrow. It was Yume, finally saying: "I don't know everything. And that's okay."

Tsukiko smiled. Maybe serious *was* the way to go. After all, becoming whole wasn't about being perfect; it was about accepting every part, even the ones that trembled... and eventually, the ones that lost their way.

----

## A Curtain Call in Feathers

The studio lights were already on when Tsukiko arrived that morning, sipping her iced coffee as she stepped onto the soundstage for 'Yume's Inner World'. The crew was buzzing-- final calibrations for the rigged pie thrower, feather cannon timing tests, and a full dress rehearsal of the collapsing stage segment. Everyone knew today's shoot was a big one. Not just because it was technically complex, but because it was the *last* big comedic fall for one of the Inner Selves: the final humiliation of Idol-Bunny Yume.

Tsukiko slipped into her dressing room and stood before the costume rack. The usual getup was waiting: the bunny ears headset, sequined crop top with a sweetheart neckline, layered pink idol skirt, fluffy tail stitched to the belt. It was loud, attention-seeking... and pathetically perfect.

She sighed lightly, then smiled at her own reflection in the mirror. "One last time."

She had already filmed the "real world" sequence the previous weekend-- Yume nervously confessing to her crush in a quiet, empty corridor at Sunshine Academy. He had turned her down gently, and Tsukiko, as Yume, had nodded, smiled... and walked away. There had been no tears; no desperation. But Tsukiko *knew* that was the lie Yume told herself. The truth was *here*, ready to be pie-splattered, slimed, and feathered in glorious meltdown form.

She stepped onto the set-- an over-the-top concert stage drenched in pastel lights and oversized props. Glitter cannons. Inflatable hearts. The "fantasy" version of the confession. Idol-Bunny Yume's version, where she sings her truth in full pop-star mode and believes, in a deluded glitter-high, that it will all go her way.

Tsukiko flicked one of the bunny ears with her fingers and smirked. "Alright, you mess of an Inner Self. Let's give them a show."

"Rolling in five," called the director.

Tsukiko exhaled. The lights dimmed. The cue music played.

She strutted onto the stage with all the misplaced confidence Idol-Bunny Yume could muster, heart pounding in her chest. The camera followed her as she lip-synced her "confession song"-- to be dubbed over in the recording booth later, as usual-- to the empty air where the dream version of her crush stood-- smiling, unreal, perfect.

But the music began to warp. The imaginary fantasy boy flickered and faded. Tsukiko hit every beat of the choreography as things started to crumble-- the dancers vanishing, the stage lights sputtering. Her voice cracked on purpose as she spoke out her lines, expressing dismay at what was happening.

Then came the first pie. *WHAP*-- right in the face. Tsukiko tasted a hint of banana cream on her tongue. She gasped, staggered. Then came another pie. *BAM*. Green slime showered her from above. She slipped, flailed dramatically, landed on her rear. The trapdoor opened beneath her and with perfect timing, she disappeared into a pit filled with pastel feathers, limbs flailing. A beat passed as she floundered around, then a *fwoosh* from the confetti cannon, showering the pit with paper hearts. The lights dimmed.

"Cut!"

The set was silent. Then applause from the crew.

Tsukiko, now feather-covered and pie-smeared, stuck her head out from the pit and spat a bit of whipped cream off her lip. "How was the timing?" she asked dryly.

The director gave her a thumbs up. "Perfect. You sold the spiral."

She let out a little laugh. Despite the stickiness, despite the slapstick absurdity-- she *had* fun. And strangely, the melancholy wasn't lost on her. This was the last time Idol-Bunny Yume would fall this hard. The end of the comedy. After this, it was all serious-- reconciliation, transformation, final truth.

Climbing out of the feather pit, the assistants gathered around her with towels and a water bottle, which Tsukiko accepted gracefully. She knew, on the next filming session, they would film Delinquent-Maid-Baby Yume-- the turning point of the story-- where Tsukiko would play both sides of a dramatic scene to integrate into Yume's True Self, one which would prove to be an uphill battle to a broken Idol-Bunny Yume. But today, Idol-Bunny Yume got her final curtain call-- and it was a glorious, creamy, feathery mess, and Tsukiko, consummate pro, had made sure to go out with a bang.

----

## One Self, Whole

The soundstage was colder than usual.

Tsukiko stood still, glancing at the stand-in across from her. The girl wore the bunny ears-- but limp now, not perky. Her glitter was gone. Her makeup washed off. Her once-flashy idol-and-bunny hybrid outfit was stripped down to the barest white slip, the hem barely brushing her knees. A powdery kind of quiet clung to her. She didn't move unless directed. She didn't speak.

She was Idol-Bunny Yume now-- empty, post-breakdown, standing barefoot in the middle of a dreamspace meant to look like Yume's childhood bedroom, faded and too wide, as if the world had grown but she hadn't.

Tsukiko glanced over at the mirror used in some shots. She barely recognized herself.

Her costume-- Delinquent-Maid-Baby Yume-- was a strange synthesis of everything Yume had been and might become: a proper maid's black dress frilled with white lace, puffy bloomers peeking under the hem, a Sunshine Academy blazer draped like a cape over her shoulders. A toy pacifier hung around her neck, absurd and vulnerable. Her boots made her grounded. Her baseball bat was missing for this scene. She didn't need it anymore, not for this 'battle'.

She remembered what Shizuka once told her about filming 'Vampire Princess Luka 2: Twin Shadows' as both the main characters, Luka and Ruka: "Playing twins isn't hard because you need to be two people. It's hard because you need to make people believe they deserve to be there. More than anything, *you* need to believe they deserve to exist."

Tsukiko took a breath. Although filming both characters in the same scene was similar in concept, she knew it held nothing to what Shizuka had to do in 'Twin Shadows'. Here, the camera angles, the blocking, would simply the whole process by filming Idol-Bunny Yume primarily from behind, and have Delinquent-Maid-Baby Yume take the lead in the dialogue and motion.

"Action."

She stepped forward into the camera's soft focus. Her steps were deliberate. The sound was muted, dreamlike. In front of her, the back of Idol-Bunny Yume-- porcelain legs, shoulders drooped, ears tilted like they'd wilted.

"...You're not a mistake," Tsukiko said, voice quiet.

No answer. No movement.

"You were never a mistake."

The stand-in flinched, slightly.

"I know you think you need to sparkle. To dance, to flirt, to be seen." Tsukiko's voice was steady now, deeper with conviction. "I know you thought being loud was the only way they'd hear you."

She walked closer. Careful to keep in her mark. The cameras would match angles later. The real Tsukiko as Idol-Bunny Yume would be spliced in during close-ups.

"You wore the ears, the sequins, the lipstick because you thought it made you worthy." She placed a hand on her own chest, fingers splayed against her heart. "But I see you. Not because of what you wore. Not because of what you did."

She waited for a moment. Then Tsukiko stepped in front of the stand-in, facing the camera, eyes burning.

"I see you because you *are* me."

Silence stretched. The studio was holding its breath. No laughter here. No whipped cream. Just honesty.

"You were scared. You thought being loved meant being good at performing. You begged for attention. You twisted yourself into hearts and smiles and pink sparkle lies."

Tsukiko's voice wavered, just a touch. "But you were *always* enough."

She took the stand-in's hands-- carefully, symbolically-- and knelt, resting her forehead against her.

"You don't need to disappear," she whispered.

The pacifier around her neck clinked softly against the white slip. Two pieces of one soul, pressed together, broken and unbroken.

Tsukiko slowly stood. "You don't need them to tell you you matter."

She turned away. "You just need to say it to yourself."

A wind machine softly triggered. The cue was given. The stand-in's figure stumbled forward, and Tsukiko turned just in time to catch her in an embrace. The illusion would hold. In the close-ups, they'd cut to Tsukiko holding herself.

Tsukiko let herself cry then, silently. A single tear rolled down her cheek. It wasn't melodrama-- it was release.

The script called for the screen to go white. Then True Self Yume would appear.

But that would be another day, in another costume. Today was about trust, about letting go of shame, about integrating without erasure. It was about being able to accept oneself, flaws and all.

"Cut," the director said, softly.

Tsukiko exhaled, slowly. Her chest ached-- not with fatigue, but with fullness. She looked at the stand-in, who gave her a small, tight smile. Tsukiko smiled back.

There was still editing, compositing, and audio balancing. A couple more takes for safety. And of course, Tsukiko needed to film her close-ups as Idol-Bunny Yume. But she had done what she set out to do; she hadn't screwed it up. Tsukiko hoped Yume, the *real* Yume, would see herself for the first time: whole.

----

## Sunshine at Last

The halls of Sunshine Academy had never felt more dreamlike.

For once, there were no surreal distortions, no pastel-tinted voids or exaggerated slapstick traps. The world around Tsukiko was just a normal school-- polished floors, afternoon light filtering through the tall windows, the distant hum of cicadas in late spring. Normal.

But Tsukiko knew it wasn't the same school where they had filmed the opening episodes.

Because *Yume wasn't the same girl.*

Tsukiko adjusted her grip on the schoolbag-- Yume's schoolbag-- careful not to disturb the soft clink of the pacifier charm that dangled from the zipper chain. Her sleeves were rolled up in lazy, casual confidence. A hint of white lace peeked from beneath her blouse, just noticeable enough. Her lips shone faintly with gloss, and a single pink bunny hairclip perched neatly in her straight black bangs. Each accessory meant something now: *integration.* True Self Yume had been "born" in the previous scene, and now it was time to live.

Tsukiko walked down the hallway, cueing the steady, almost floaty pacing required for this final sequence-- half narration, half vignette. A sort of epilogue-in-motion.

"Scene 117: Sunshine Corridor," the director called. "Take one. Aaaaand... action!"

Tsukiko began walking again, soft footsteps echoing gently off tile. The camera dollied backward in time with her stride.

"I used to think I had to hide all the parts of me," her voiceover would later say. "That I had to choose just *one* way to be."

She passed a classroom window, catching a reflection: herself, but not just herself. *Yume.* She was not the doormat from episode one, nor the scattered bundle of contradictions who'd cried through her comedy routines. This Yume walked like someone with weight in her steps. She blinked slowly, thoughtfully. She smiled at nothing.

"But none of those things have to go... they just had to mean something that was true to myself."

Tsukiko stopped by a locker. She slipped her fingers into the strap of her schoolbag, pulling it closer, letting the pacifier charm sway with a quiet jingle.

"I can be soft and strong. Polished and awkward. I don't have to be perfect to belong."

"Cut!" came the call.

Tsukiko exhaled. She wasn't winded, but something in her chest felt full. Like breath held for months was finally being let out.

The director approached, grinning. "Perfect. Let's set up for the last courtyard scene. You get to eat melonpan on camera."

"Again?" Tsukiko smirked. "Yume really loves melonpan."

"She *deserves* melonpan," the director shot back.

Tsukiko laughed and stepped off set, sipping bottled water as crew members shifted the lighting rigs. She glanced at the phone in her hand, where her notifications were already lighting up.

Moonlight Prism's new single, titled "One Name", was already trending in early teaser clips. A soft, intimate rock ballad written by Astra, with Hana's violin echoing melancholy-hopeful and Tsukiko's voice laid bare over gentle synth. It had passed final approval to be used as the insert song during True Self Yume's emergence scene... but Tsukiko knew production was heavily leaning toward using it for the final ending sequence, too.

She was glad; it deserved to be heard. Astra deserved it; she had poured herself into that music.

Tsukiko smiled to herself, pocketing the phone.

From Idol Yume's ridiculous winks and twirls, to the slapstick implosions of Bunny Girl Yume, to the final quiet rage and grace of Delinquent-Maid-Baby Yume confronting Idol-Bunny's grief... she had played every part of Yume's heart. It had been exhausting. It had been beautiful.

"Rolling again in five!" someone called.

Tsukiko turned to watch the courtyard being dressed-- just a few benches, the school gates in the background. A simple melonpan in a paper wrapper placed carefully on one of the seats. She would sit, eat, smile, and gaze at the light. And that would be it: the *real* Yume-- complete, complicated, unafraid-- just *being*.

After all filming was completed, there'd be the wrap party, and if she had her way, she'd drag Astra out of her introvert shell long enough to toast her with juice or champagne or whatever Astra didn't object to.

Maybe it wasn't the kind of show everyone expected. Maybe it was too weird. Too sentimental. Too *earnest.* But it had mattered.

"Let's finish this," Tsukiko said softly to herself as she took her mark, the breeze catching the bunny clip in her hair.

One last scene. One real girl, whole-- her true self.

----

The after-party was winding down.

Laughter and music still drifted from the windows of the rented restaurant space behind them, but Tsukiko stood near the entrance, scanning the room until she spotted Astra at the edge of the crowd-- leaning against the wall like a shadow, aloof as ever, half-listening to Hana and Kaede's teasing banter. She was still wearing her dark stage makeup, streaked slightly from the humidity, her sharp eyeliner softened at the corners. Her drink was untouched.

Tsukiko took a quiet breath and walked over.

"Astra," she said gently, tilting her head. "Can we talk? Outside."

Astra's golden eyes blinked, unreadable for a moment. She hesitated. Her fingers gripped the hem of her long jacket tightly. "Alone?" she asked, like the word itself carried weight.

Tsukiko nodded once.

Before Astra could retreat into her familiar silence, Hana gently touched her shoulder from behind. "You should go," she said, with that same calm warmth she gave audiences at Moonlight Prism's concerts. "Whatever it is, it won't hurt."

Astra swallowed and finally nodded.

----

Outside, the night air was cool and crisp. It cut through the sticky warmth left by the crowd inside.

They stood in silence beneath the glow of a streetlamp. Astra kept her eyes down at first, then looked up-- right into Tsukiko's face. It wasn't that Tsukiko was unreadable. It was that she waited, gave space.

Astra finally broke the silence.

"You told me... you accept me. Just like this." Her voice was hoarse. Quiet, but not withdrawn. "No conditions. No... performance."

Tsukiko nodded slowly. "I meant it."

Astra exhaled like she'd been holding that breath for months. "I didn't know," she said, the words stumbling out faster than she could catch them, "if I was gay. If I was in love with you. I didn't know if that was the only way to make sense of what you mean to me. And it just--"

She broke off. Her hands were shaking a little now.

"I thought maybe I had to become something else. Someone easier to define." She gave a short, humorless laugh. "But there wasn't a word to describe what we were."

Tsukiko said nothing. She simply stood there, her arms folded lightly, patient. This was the most Astra had said to her ever since their friendship started, and she knew this uncharacteristic behavior was very important to her.

"I kept trying to figure out how to *be* with you. What the right version of me was. But when you finished filming the last scene, the one where Yume says goodbye to her fragments, where she realized she doesn't have to kill them off or erase them... she just needed to accept them... as part of herself."

She looked away.

"I think I finally understand. You're the most important person in my life. I don't know what to call it, but..."

Her voice cracked, and she looked back at Tsukiko with raw eyes.

"It doesn't matter what it is. What we have is already enough."

Tsukiko stepped forward. The motion was small, soft. But her presence felt huge in that moment.

"I'm glad," Tsukiko said, "that you found your answer. And that it didn't involve cream pies." Her mouth quirked in the faintest, lopsided smile.

Astra laughed-- a brief, yet genuine laugh. It was strange and short and sounded like someone had just kicked over months of tension. Then she blinked rapidly, her face flushed, and looked away again.

Tsukiko didn't say anything else. She just opened her arms.

And Astra stepped forward.

The hug was long. Astra held her tightly, as if Tsukiko might fade away. Tsukiko, for her part, embraced Astra with quiet firmness. There were no cameras; no audience. Just two people who had traveled together through every fragment, every distortion, every blurred line between self and mirror.

The streetlamp flickered softly above them, catching the shimmer of Astra's tears. But neither of them let go.

They didn't need words. They had each other.

----

## One Name
* Performed by Tsukiko | Music by Moonlight Prism | Lyrics by Astra | 
* Style: Introspective alt-rock with trance influence

[Verse 1]
I was five voices, five dreams aloud
Each pulling me in ways I couldn't allow
Smiles too wide, steps too small
Running in circles just to stall

The star on the stage, chasing the lights
The bunny with hearts drawn in flight
The rebel with fists, loud in my head
The maid who whispered, "please don't tread"

And one who cried, too young to say
What she needed, just pushed away

[Pre-Chorus]
But you saw me when I didn't
When I fractured just to try
You stayed when I pretended
And never asked me why

[Chorus]
I thought I had to earn a name
Had to shine, or fight, or take the blame
But you held the mirror still
Let me see what never will
Split apart, I couldn't see
All along, I was already *me*
Five voices learned to speak the same
Now I walk forward with one name

[Verse 2]
She danced too hard, she loved too fast
She laughed so loud it couldn't last
She served so small, afraid to stand
She swung at ghosts with trembling hands

And one who curled up, closed her eyes
Waiting for someone to recognize

[Pre-Chorus]
But you heard me in the silence
When I didn't know the tune
And you never asked for proof
Just hummed along too soon

[Chorus]
I thought I had to prove I'm whole
Wore every mask, played every role
But you stayed behind the scene
Told me quiet could still mean
Split apart, I couldn't see
That even lost, you walked with me
Five voices learned to speak the same
Now I breathe steady with one name

[Bridge]
So here's to the girl who tried too hard
To the girl who hid behind her guard
To the girl who served, who fought, who fled
To the one still learning not to dread

And to the one who watched it all
Not asking me to rise or fall
But saying softly through the haze
"You've always been enough this way."

[Final Chorus]
I thought I had to earn a name
To be loud, or strong, or bear the flame
But I looked up and there you were
Not asking me to defer
Split apart, now I can see
Each piece was always part of me
Five voices held, no need for shame
Now I stand gently with one name

[Outro]
Just one name
Just one voice
Still unsure
Still a choice
But I'm not afraid to claim
That one true name





===========================================================================

This story is written with heavy AI assistance.

The focus of this story is on Tsukiko and Astra. Through the lens of "Yume's Inner World" Tsukiko finds out things about herself while playing Yume, and Astra finds a way to resolve her undefined feelings toward Tsukiko. Yume is delibarately parallel to Tsukiko's actual life; much of Yume is really Tsukiko, but the hopeless, performative romantic Inner Self is more of Astra reflected on Tsukiko. I kept it in mind that Astra was also straight, but I had her take the long path to recognizing just what kind of love it was (by having her hangup being her conflict about her personal identity clashing against what she thought were 'valid' forms of love). So her resolution in this case is coming to terms with a form of love that isn't romantic, and that it is okay to feel this way.

In a meta sense, though, "Yume's Inner World" was mostly an excuse to put Tsukiko in weird costumes and get into very absurd situations, like it was "Inside Out" through the lens of a screwball comedy. But the consequence of this is it ensures that Tsukiko is the 'real deal' as an actress while setting her apart from her mentor, Shizuka, in some ways (most notably, Tsukiko can sing, while Shizuka cannot).

The story also fleshes out Sunshine Academy more-- the school, ranging from middle school through high school, is a prime location for filming TV Dramas, using its existing property, school uniforms, and student body as a low-cost shorthand to say 'this is a typical high school'. What this means, though, is the students are wearing 'retro' uniforms, ones that are largely phased out from other schools in Japan: the middle school class wears the classic seifuku while the high schoolers wear a more 'professional' blouse/blazer combo. The gym uniform for the girls uses the buruma style that is deeply unpopular with school girls, and the swimsuit is the old style one with the 'skirt' (not the 'competition' swimsuit). So in a way Sunshine Academy's uniforms are a deliberate 'time capsule' for nostalgic, financial, and practical reasons. This means Hana and Astra (and Kanna, Shion, and Miranda as well), who graduated from Sunshine Academy, wore said uniforms when they attended. And of course, Tsukiko, who didn't attend Sunshine Academy, makes the observation that she wore the uniforms enough on three consecutive TV Dramas that she may as well have been a student there.

But that is not to say that there are no benefits to having to wear those 'retro' uniforms; the students are given the option to work as extras on productions filming on the campus to make a little extra cash on the side, or even get some TV exposure, if that is their goal. So not only is Sunshine Academy a prestigious school, it is also one of opportunities for students willing to take advantage of it. And that doesn't even go into what the school uses that money for that benefit the students in general (although note the Sunshine Music Festival in the previous stories was still in place to raise money for the music school as its nominal goal, its real purpose was to sway the music students in Sunshine Melody's favor, which of course didn't work for them).

Although Tsukiko is closely related with Moonlight Prism now that she sang a song with them, she is not going to join them; she is going to remain an actress/model, and eventually, a kimono model (which is quietly mentioned in the background here and there; it is an ongoing subplot).



~ Razorclaw X